Madhuri Reddy

But that is what people believe nowadays.

They hesitate to show depth.

Sometimes they are afraid even to feel it.

And here I am...

feeling every emotion to its core.

I love as if there is no tomorrow.

I cry as if there is no return.

I laugh as if this moment may never come again.

I sing my heart out as if somewhere, far away,

someone might hear it.

Perhaps it is foolish to believe I might find someone like me.

But perhaps it would be even stranger

two souls, a thousand almost confessions,

but one shared silence that said everything.

They let their eyes speak.

And only they know the pain of that silence

and the joy of a moment that almost became something more

Some connections don’t start with words.

like nothing ever broke you.

I’ve seen people do it.

They make it look so simple, like the heart knows when to stop remembering.

But when I try,

it feels like I’m acting in someone else’s story.

Saying words I don’t believe in,

living days that don’t feel like mine.

I just keep showing up...

hoping the script changes,

or maybe… that I finally will.

Just a calm feeling... like their presence makes the world a little better, even if they don’t know it.

Maybe that’s what acceptance is.

Realizing that wanting too much can break the fragile peace of just being.

Some feelings are better when they stay unnamed.

They lose their magic once you try to own them.

Why do we replay them in our heads, as if one day, the past will give us a second chance?

Maybe that's the art of being human. Carrying unfinished stories inside us.

Not every sentence gets spoken.

Not every chapter gets closure.

And maybe that's okay.

as if my world is collapsing inward.

Everything around me feels like shattering glass.

I can’t name this feeling.

It doesn’t fit into words,

doesn’t sit quietly inside me.

Music has become my therapy,

yet sometimes even the lyrics cut deep.

Even the distractions I cling to

they ache, they remind and they wound.

He kept reading her silence.

Turns out, he was in the story all along.

Not in the chapters she flaunted,

but in the pieces she tried to erase.

He was the quiet ending she never dared to dream of,

until the pages themselves whispered his name...

Just a quiet confession between two night wanderers.

The moon didn’t judge.

It simply listened, like it always does, carrying secrets on its silver skin.

And then I smiled, because maybe that’s all we really need sometimes...

Not a reply but the comfort of being heard...

Now I take up space like I was born for it.

Let them adjust their vision.

I’m not dimming the damn thing...

Scared of getting what I really want.

Because what if it’s too good?

What if I don’t know how to hold it right?

What if I mess it up… just by being me?

I think that’s what scares me the most.

Not losing it, but being the reason it leaves.

Isn’t it strange? The one who broke her still had the power to make her whole with just a glance, just a smile.

And even in the ache, she stayed carrying both the bruise and the longing.

eyes holding stories too quiet for words.

A journal in her hands, Writing, as if each word was a memory she didn’t want back.

And in that quiet moment,

he saw her, not as a stranger, but as a chapter he didn’t know he’d been waiting to read.

Yes, my heart aches, more than words can hold.

There will be nights I’ll weep quietly, haunted by the absence of your presence.

I’ll feel a hollow space where you once were, a silence that echoes louder than words.

But even this ache carries hope, that someday, it will be okay.

And that hope is gentler than holding on to you and breaking a little more each day.