✧
Perhaps every poet was first defeated by love.
M. Dangi
Letters Never SentWORDS THAT STAY
For the words that arrived too late, and the feelings that never left.
Perhaps every poet was first defeated by love.
Perhaps I couldn’t break it; it was a heart.
And yet, I cannot make you understand.
Shall I write of all that weighs upon your soul, my dear, or would you rather suffer in the mercy of silence?
And when you left, it wasn’t you I mourned first, it was the person I could no longer be.
O my dear, your words were glass; my heart broke merely by believing them.
Perhaps I loved you most when I understood you could never stay.
In Spiritual Feminist Literature, feminism is not opposition to men. It is the recognition of women as complete human beings, with interiority, moral agency, consciousness, dignity, and the right to become.
Perhaps I desperately believed in myself.
My dear, If suffering makes us wiser, then I have learned enough. If heartbreak makes us stronger, then I have carried enough strength for one heart. And yet, the heart continues. Not because it is unbroken. But because it no longer knows how to stop.
Perhaps truth arrives quietly, because it knows certainty is rarely listening.
People say the heart eventually moves on, but I have never been certain where it is supposed to go.
Perhaps we call it strength when the heart learns to carry what it cannot change.
And the saddest part is that when love finally arrives, it often meets the mask before it meets the wound.
The more a person understands the truth of this world, the more they quietly drift away from the crowd.
What need have I of borrowed words, when my own suffering has given me more than enough to say?
Perhaps this is why the deepest souls learn silence first, because the world has never handled truth gently
If it breaks your heart but opens your eyes, take it as a win.
O my dear, was that a tragic ending,
O my dear, suffering makes you wise, but wisdom is often the cruelest wound.
To conquer a heart only to abandon it afterward is perhaps the cruelest victory one human being can claim over another.
O my heart, why are you so restless? Just comply
Well, my heart abandoned my mind.
O my heart, I wish you a million moments of peace after all the wars you survived.
The pain was not the betrayal. The pain was knowing they understood my heart first.
Betrayal becomes larger than one person when it teaches us to distrust the whole human heart.
The Love That Did Not Know You Were Gone From Letters Never Sent I do not know what name to give what you have become in me. Love seems too ordinary a word for something that has survived so many years without being given a life. Grief is not right either, because grief belongs to things that have ended, and somehow you have never entirely ended. There are days when I am certain I have forgotten you. I make tea. I answer people. I laugh at something insignificant. I move through the hours like someone whose heart has finally learned good manners. Then, without warning, I remember some small thing. Not your face. Not even your voice. Only the person I was when I believed you would remain. And suddenly I understand that perhaps this is what I have been mourning all these years. Not you. Her. The woman who loved you before she knew that love could continue long after there was nowhere left for it to go. Sometimes I wonder whether you carry even one small piece of me into your ordinary days. Whether my name has ever arrived unexpectedly in your mind while you were driving somewhere, closing a door, looking through an old drawer. I hope it has. Forgive me. There are still parts of me selfish enough to want to have been unforgettable to you. But if I have disappeared completely, I will survive that too. I have survived almost everything about loving you. What I have never learned is how to explain why, after all this time, some part of my heart still turns toward a door it knows will never open. Perhaps that is why I am writing this instead of sending it. I no longer need you to come back. I only needed somewhere to put the love that did not know you were gone.
Some people leave, but something of them remains not to be kept, but to become part of who you are.
They arrived too late. The deepest pain rarely waits to be understood.
Perhaps heaven is not where suffering ends. Perhaps it is the moment the heart, despite everything, still chooses wonder.
There are rooms within the human heart that no visitor can fully enter.
O my dear, I believed in you because, I suppose, I believed in the human heart.
Because I love you, I let you go.
Oh, this depth of heart always left alone.
O my dear, I still cannot tell whether it was an ending or merely betrayal wearing the manners of one.
O my dear, I returned to myself.
Perhaps the most beautiful lies are not told to deceive. They are told to keep a broken heart alive.
How did you leave? Did your heart bleed?
Perhaps it is better to let go of those who have already gone.
Awakening is not becoming someone new. It is becoming unable to betray who you have finally understood yourself to be.
In my destiny you were the punishment.
Okay! Forget all this nonsense and tell me, how did you spend all those years without regrets?
O my dear, when I lost you in truth, I found you in my soul.
Perhaps freedom begins the day you no longer knock on other people’s hearts asking to be understood.
For my sake, tell me the truth once, even if it condemns us both.
But people often leave long before they leave.
Oh, my dear, you broke millions of stars when you broke my heart.
I am a lover, with or without a lover, because love is who I am, not who I’m with.
A woman becomes free when she finally realizes she was never born to betray herself.
Keep the words close. Share them with someone who needs them.