Left unsaid

Left unsaid”, I had seen these words before in a picture.
Shown somewhere.
Black capital words written on a big white wall.
Simple!
Creative!
I had liked it immediately at first sight,
But this is not the reason I was thinking of it today.
This time I was wearing it on me,
Like a white piece of cloth, with black capital letters.
This felt my thing.
Nice to have aroused my imagination, but hurtful to feel!
I had a reason of that feeling.
It was all about one day before
…I had been writing on a piece of paper,
All white!
Empty!
It looked like waiting for me to weight on it with my pen.
It felt,
Like we played with each other,
Me and the paper.
Each word like a little sparkle of love, caressing it.
Letters like little ornaments.
Painting of its fragile body
It was nice,
Sweet,
In those hours on my own
With nobody around.
Between us,
It was going on,
Like a baby talks for the first moment.
I had to be an adult…
At that moment my hand trembled.
The letter felt my confusion and moved away.
I began stammering.
It is too late!
I am an adult, that’s what I am!
At this moment, I was reminded,
What a friend had once said to me:
«I fear when i am in front of the white paper»
It was an expression at that time.
But now?
It was real!
I was skipping the verses!
I was trying to alter the words!
Those letters made perfect sense to me.
But only on my escape,
I would get hurt outside.
I got away!
Restless!
Whispering, fragmented words on my mouth
want to be a baby!
I want to do baby talks!
She is curious.
She knows nothing
She loves everything!
She does not need to escape.
No fears!
No regrets!
A life of fullness and amusement.
No chains inside to hurt her feel!
No wires outside to hurt her sound!
Uncomfortable
Under the grunge of «censured»
Nothing had changed but yet.
Now i was getting more aware.
It was a story of another kind.
A real show!
I was meant to be the protagonist of some kind of movie.
It was named «Left unsaid»
Under this immensity,
This wisdom.
Under this life,
Only lived once.
Where everyday was a limited choice to live it all,
Every second not loving and telling: «waste of a chance!»
It felt uneasy.
It felt uncomfortable.
It hurt to see the show!

Reviews

[Twilight]

Very different, to your flower poem; and certainly way longer.

Sometimes, try separating poems into verses; for clarity? For example, when wanting to describe a topic separately within the poem?

The lines make sense individually, but don't often make sense; with the lines immediately prior or following. Perhaps, you do this partly out of choice.?

"Left Unsaid" are just two words, but made a powerful enough impression upon you; to prompt you to share so many feelings and thoughts - in one long flow. In fact, some people refer to this style as "free flow".

You certainly have my attention, to read and appreciate what is written. Sometimes though, try maybe; not to try too hard with seeking to fit so much in one piece?

Do keep writing, and take care; from one natural writer to another...

[a_methyste]

Thank you. 😊

[Twilight]

My pleasure, friend Kamela.