“The Night I Spoke Without Words”

There was a night when I couldn’t speak.

Not because my voice was gone, but because my heart had forgotten how.

I sat in my room, lights off, holding my pen like it was the only thing keeping me alive. I didn’t know if I was writing to survive or writing to disappear but the words came anyway.

And that’s when I realised… poetry is my second voice. The one that speaks when I can’t. The one that bleeds without leaving scars.

That night, my pen wrote this:

🖤 When No One Was Listening

"I smiled… so they wouldn’t ask.

I laughed… so they wouldn’t know.

But every night,

I drowned in the sea

that lived inside my chest.

I learned how to hide storms

behind steady eyes,

how to swallow the screams

until they tasted like silence.

And still…

the moon knew my secrets,

because it was the only one

who stayed up

to hear me break."

When I read it back, my tears blurred the ink.

That’s when I realised I don’t just want to write for myself anymore.

I want my words to find someone out there who’s sitting in the dark,

needing to hear that they’re not alone.

Maybe… that someone is you