A Poem

I forgot,
we don’t talk anymore.

I forgot,
the reason
and the need.

All I remember is
your laugh and cry.

All I remember is
good and bad,

All I remember is
you.

I forgot,
we don’t talk.

If not the laughs,
not the jokes,
not the teasing,
or a gossip.

We have nothing to talk about,
it’s better we don’t then,
for a while…

The Things We Forget :

Sometimes, people don’t leave our lives with a goodbye. There is no argument, no final conversation, no particular moment when everything changes. Conversations simply become shorter, replies become less frequent, and eventually, silence becomes a part of everyday life.

You don’t always notice when it happens. One day, you realise that you haven’t spoken in weeks, perhaps months. You try to remember how it started, what went wrong, or who stopped making the effort first. But the answers don’t seem to matter anymore.

Funny how the mind works. It forgets the reasons but holds on to the smallest details. A laugh, a silly joke, an unfinished conversation, the way someone used to tease you, or a random story they once shared. Things that meant very little at the time somehow become the things you remember most.

And perhaps that’s what makes certain silences difficult to understand. You don’t necessarily miss having conversations every day. You don’t even know whether you want things to return to how they were.

You just remember.

Maybe there is nothing left to say. Maybe the things that once brought two people together are no longer there. And perhaps that’s okay.

Not every connection needs a dramatic ending. Some simply become memories, without either person deciding when that happened.

So, you let the silence stay. Not out of anger, not out of resentment, but because sometimes there really is nothing to talk about.

For now, that’s enough.

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Forgetful : A Poem was originally published in Pen With Paper on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Past midnight
while everyone sleeps
everything goes quiet
except the clock
tick tick tick

A voice from inside
slowly whispering
still unclear

A sense of urgency,
waiting

waiting for what?
For whom?

A message,
or a call.
But why…

The voice whispers a little louder
“void void voiddd…”

Even the clock gets quiet
the room becomes dark
and eyes go numb

Heartbeat increases
pain in the chest
mind full of thoughts

“What to do now?”
Let’s watch a few more reels
or a movie, play a game
Cover the void for tonight….

“Not enough… the void is too big”
have to talk….

“No one to talk to…”
Then talk to oneself….

Let me write it down
as a poem….

Before Dawn explores the loneliness of waiting for a message that never arrives. In the silence of the night, the speaker finds themselves hoping that someone will notice their absence, ask if they are okay, or simply reach out without being asked. Reels, movies, and games offer temporary distractions, but the emptiness returns each time the screen goes quiet. Caught between the desire to talk and the fear of having no one to turn to, the speaker struggles to express a need they cannot quite explain. Eventually, they turn to writing — not because it fills the void, but because it gives an otherwise unheard feeling somewhere to exist.

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Pen With Paper Submission Guidelines 2026 : A Brand New Way to Be Added as a Writer

Before Dawn was originally published in Pen With Paper on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

What’s left to talk ?
I know you talk to
her
about me.

What’s left to argue ?
I saw you both
together.

What’s left to cry ?
You never loved me
anyway.

I can’t trust you
anymore.
My love for self is greater.

I’ll never
come back to you.

If I do,
just push me away.

Maybe it’s my fault.
I’m bad.
I’m wrong.
Yet carry self-worth.

I’m still a person,
just like you.

I’m still a person was originally published in The Gravity on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I can’t make a move,
get any closer,
say any word,
I just can’t.

I can’t look into your eyes,
walk beside you,
smile back,
I just can’t.

I can’t wait for you,
give any hope,
look from afar,
I just can’t.

I can’t be the one for you,
never was,
never will be,
I just can’t.

I can’t hurt you at the end,
can’t lose something
I never had,
I just can’t

I can’t let my heart beat,
a little numb,
a little quiet,
I just can’t.

I just can’t love,
not you,
not them,
not anyone.
I just can’t.

“I Just Can’t, Love” is a poem about the quiet fear of falling in love and the decision to keep someone at a distance, even when the heart feels otherwise. It explores hesitation, emotional detachment, and the fear of hurting someone by giving them hope. Sometimes, the hardest thing isn’t letting someone go — it’s refusing to let something begin.

let me know how as the poem
thanks for reading….

I Just Can’t, Love was originally published in The Gravity on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Summer

It’s a sunny morning,
on my way to college,
the same bus as always,
with some familiar faces
and many new.

One fine day,
I noticed a blue butterfly.
After another glance,
it was a hair band,
almost real,
yet fake.

A few more days passed.
The blue butterfly
became part of
every morning.

Monsoon

While raindrops covered the windows,
the bus grew crowded too.
The blue butterfly sat next to me.

I admired
the blue butterfly
resting in her hair.

Soon,
I started
saving her a seat,
waiting for her,
and maybe hoping.

She laughed at my bad jokes,
complained about the weather,
and shared
the little things
of everyday life.

I mostly listened.

Autumn

The seats we shared
made us
less than friends,
more than strangers.

The season changed.
It became rare
to sit together.

I stopped waiting,
and she stopped coming.

Yet whenever
our eyes met,
we shared
a familiar smile.

The smile
kept getting shorter
as the air
grew colder.

Winter

In my final days of college,
I never thought to ask
her full name,
address,
or number.

On a cloudy morning,
the bus was nearly empty.
I was quiet as always.
She was too.

My stop came too soon.

I got off the bus.

I looked back.

The blue butterfly
was gone.

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This story published on “Pen With Paper” — a fresh space where writers bring their thoughts, stories, and ideas to life. Want to share your voice? Join our community, and together, “We Elevate Your Stories”

Pen With Paper Submission Guidelines 2026 : A Brand New Way to Be Added as a Writer

The Blue Butterfly was originally published in Pen With Paper on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Can you tell me
how we smile
with tired eyes
and a lost soul?

Look at those familiar
faces again.
What changed?
The bond lost its purpose.

I don’t want to talk,
not that I hate it,
just that it feels good
when quiet.

The rains have come again,
helping me relax,
playing their unheard music.

My hand feels just fine,
unheld and cold,
so I left it alone,
not to lend it again.

Stopped looking into eyes
since nothing changed
except the way I perceive.

Maybe I’m just
tired of life.

I’ve been chasing;
it is fine to settle
for a while.

Fine Alone was originally published in Shadows in the Library on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

In a midnight crowded train
travelling alone
to somewhere I don’t know
and why?

The hum of the train makes me dizzy
my eyes want to sleep
but refuse to.

tired of travelling
I don’t want to anymore
got down in silent station
now it is too quiet, too dark
still alone….

The train left without last goodbyes
With that heavy luggage once mine
I don’t remember much
but something in it was precious to me

Found myself lost in the cold
Waiting with no hope
of someone looking for me
but still wished deep down
that somewhere around
someone wants me too…

with each moment passing
my hands were getting cold
eyes loosing there sight and hope fading…

Then came another train
this time empty
I stepped in, since
I don’t belong to the station
nor this train
not even to the destination

I belong to my dream
to travel afar…

Lost And Found was originally published in The Gravity on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

What Is Love?

Is it the way
my eyes look at you,
making my heart feel
gentle…?

Is it my mind
getting lost
every time
our eyes meet?

Is it
daydreaming
about a life with you?

Is it
blushing every time
my friends call your name?

Maybe it is
not knowing
how to get closer,
and fearing
to lose something
too dear.

Is this love?
Finding you
too precious to chase,
yet praying
for you
every single day.

If it is,
I love you.

If not,
I still love you.

Is this Love? was originally published in Write A Catalyst on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Why smile
when it’s always an act?
Why talk
when the words are never heard?

Friend?
Only when the other is useful.

Both knew from the very start,
yet kept playing along,
with one hoping
for the act to become truth.

I can’t anymore.
Keep your fake bond
to yourself.

That’s how I feel.
Goodbye.

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This story published on “Pen With Paper” — a fresh space where writers bring their thoughts, stories, and ideas to life. Want to share your voice? Join our community, and together, “We Elevate Your Stories”

Pen With Paper Submission Guidelines 2026 : A Brand New Way to Be Added as a Writer

Fake Friend was originally published in Pen With Paper on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Sometimes we find ourselfs lost with no hope. This poem tries to express those emotions…

Chapter 1: Lost

In a midnight crowded train
travelling alone,
I don’t know why.

The hum of the train makes me dizzy,
my eyes want to sleep
but refuse to.

Tired of travelling,
I got down at the next station,
where the silence whispers
of loneliness.

The train left
without any last goodbye…

With that heavy luggage once mine…
lost forever…

I sat down, lost in the dark,
waiting with no hope
of someone I know,
looking for me tonight…

But still wished deep down
that somewhere around,
someone wants me too…

Stay tuned for Chapter 2

Lost & Found: Chapter 1 : Lost was originally published in Write A Catalyst on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.