The Things We Never Say

It’s not always silence

That makes the loudest sound—

Sometimes it’s the words

We never say,

Sitting heavy on the chest

Like storm clouds that never break.

We walk past each other

In kitchens and doorways,

Brushing elbows,

Hearts like glass

Pressed against the inside of ribs,

But never shattering loud enough

To be noticed.

We say, How was your day?

But what we mean is,

Do you still think about the dream you gave up?

Do you still see the ocean when you close your eyes?

Do you remember who you were before the world asked you to change?

We ask, Are you okay?

And get the answer: Yeah, I’m fine.

A phrase smooth as polished stone,

Tossed across the surface of a deep, aching lake

We don’t dare swim in.

There are “I miss yous”

Buried in old photos,

“I love yous” trapped

In awkward goodbyes,

And “I’m sorrys”

Written in forgotten texts,

Never sent.

We save these things—

Hide them between the lines,

Hope someone will learn to read

The spaces in between.

Because we’re afraid.

Afraid of the mess.

Of saying too much.

Of being vulnerable,

And having someone walk away

With the softest parts of us in their hands.

But what if they stayed?

What if they said,

Me too?

What if they were waiting—

Just like us—

For someone to speak first,

To break the dam,

To name the feeling

We both pretend isn’t there?

The things we never say

Don’t disappear.

They echo.

They bend our backs

In quiet rooms,

Whisper in dreams,

Hang in the air

When no one else is around.

But maybe—

Just maybe—

They’re waiting too.

Waiting to be freed.

One sentence,

One trembling truth at a time.

So here it is—

The thing I never said:

I see you.

I hear you.

And I’ve been waiting

For you to say it too.