Words Unspoken

Never thought I would say this so, With a heavy heart that loves, yet lets go. We tried to connect, to heal, to grow, But chaos remained, and we both know. Thank you for letting me just be, For accepting my soul, my way to see. Thank you for painting my skies in pink, For bearing my blues and my endless overthinking. You saw my dark, yet showed me the light, Held my silence to ease the fight. It didn’t work, though we never planned, But good things end, as life had it scanned. They say all happens for some reason, You were my warmth, my kindest season. I learnt to soften, to settle, to bend, You were my love, my dream, my friend. This isn’t goodbye, just gratitude true, For every shade of me that you drew. Now until we meet in some other place, Maybe then, we will win the race... By Puppy

A few years back, I bought my first pair of shoes. I had no travel plans, no reason to wear them, yet something in me wanted them. The pair that felt magical Soon after, life surprised me with an unplanned trip to another city. I, who had never travelled alone, packed those shoes and went to meet a friend. I lied to my family, called it “work,” and lived moments that felt like freedom for the first time. When I returned, I dreamt of more such escapes, or to be closer to someone special... And not long after, I was placed in another city. I hesitated, overthought, compared the pros and cons… But in the end, I put on those same shoes and stepped forward. With time, I began believing those shoes were magical, that they were making everything possible. I forgot it was me who had walked into those journeys, me who had taken the risks, me who had worked hard to chase those dreams. I bought new pairs, but my heart clung to the first one. I stopped wearing them, afraid they would tear, until o...

Yes, I still believe in soulmates Not for religion, not for fate, But for the kind of love that stays The kind that shows up, not just says. I believe in someone made for me Not perfect, but perfect to be, I’m not lost in dreamy fiction Just drawn to love with true conviction. I believe because I give my all Commitment, care, I answer the call, Like how energy pulls what's true I know commitment pulls it too. Somewhere out there he’s waiting still Maybe standing, maybe quiet, but with will, Not because he's a prince in line But simply because he’s mine. By Monira Rahman Bhuiya

You made it feel like just a deal, While I dreamed of a home, something real. For you, it was just a passing word, For me, it was love, deep and unheard. I gave my heart, I gave my years, And see how I am left with all silent tears. I feel unloved, I feel so compromised, Is this the same love that once gave me butterflies? I don’t blame you, I don’t blame me, Maybe it’s fate, maybe destiny. They say true love fights the world with pride, Never lets fear or distance divide. But I sit here, my heart still breaking, While promises feel like deals in the making. I say yes, I give and bend, Do I still need to wait to call me your end? Will I ever be the name you say, To your world, in a proud display? You think there’s time, and you can’t see, You might miss the chance, I may no longer be. Monira Rahman Bhuiya

It's a feeling I have known for a long time, Echoed deep from the childhood, unseen and unheard. From the relatives to friends, even those close and dear, Insecurities planted in me, growing year by year. I'm insecure of myself, afraid to be alone, Told only smart, pretty girls are known. My skin tone is not bright enough to shine, Insecure of my nose, not sharp and fine. My eyes, not large, fail to impress, My speech, not well groomed, lacks sweetness. Even on my walk, don't maintain any beauty code, Insecurities are built into me on societal mode. Each one is valid, each one is backed, So why, one day, did he nag? "Why so insecure?" he asked, with a sigh, As if the reasons weren't clear, or I couldn't comply. By  Monira Rahman Bhuiya

It feels awkward to give my all, And still be the one who takes the fall. To show up with a heart so wide, But feel like I’m left outside... It’s awkward being the one who feels, In a world that hides and never heals. To speak my truth, soft and deep, And get a silence that cuts me cheap... I hear your pain, I try, I stay, But you brush me off like I’m in the way. You say, “You won’t get it, you never do,” But I was only showing up for you... I pour my love into every part, But no one sees what’s in my heart. It’s awkward when they walk right through, As if my feelings never grew... It’s awkward pushing past the pain, Pretending sunshine in the rain. While slowly I forget my name, And play a role in someone’s game... It’s awkward when your mood is low, But you just expect me to know. And if I miss the silent cue, You say it’s me who never knew... Being sensitive isn’t weak, It’s just that I feel when others speak. But when they choose not to explain, It leaves me with this quiet pain.....