“Some Unwritten Goodbyes”
By The Wordsmith journal & The Hidden Haiku
They often ask me,
“How does it feel to write like that?”
And I never know how to explain that it doesn’t feel like writing—
It feels like bleeding. Quietly.
I’m 20 now.
Old enough to carry the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions.
Young enough to still believe that words can heal.
I write not because I want to, but because I have to. My poetry doesn’t arrive with grand entrances or orchestras. It slips in like a midnight ache, a whisper only I can hear. And I know that if I don’t let it out, it’ll eat me from the inside. That’s what being a poet feels like—constantly translating pain into beauty.
“Unwritten Goodbye” – A Name, A Feeling
My blog isn't just a corner of the internet. It's a confession booth.
Every poem I write here is a goodbye I never got to say. To people. To versions of me. To moments that stayed longer in my head than they did in reality.
Unwritten Goodbye isn’t just a title. It’s a truth most of us carry.
The poems here are not polished diamonds; they are cracked mirrors reflecting every shade of love, longing, silence, and surrender.
The Life Behind the Verses
People think poets live in metaphors. That we fall in love with the moon and cry at sunsets. Maybe that’s partially true. But most of the time, we just observe. We absorb. We feel everything too deeply, and speak too rarely.
There are nights when I write a verse and cry for reasons I don’t understand.
There are mornings I wake up with lines in my mind and pain in my chest.
And no one around me sees it.
They see a calm boy, who loves traveling, books, old-school vibes, and maybe paints sometimes. But they don’t see the battles fought between two stanzas. The heartache wrapped in rhyme.
Why I’ll Keep Writing
Because silence is louder in poetry.
Because love deserves to be remembered.
Because even when I’m afraid to speak, my poems speak for me.
This blog is my legacy—not in the sense of fame, but in the sense of leaving pieces of my soul behind. For Riya. For the world. For the boy I used to be. For the man I’m becoming.
So if you’re reading this—thank you.
You’re not just reading words. You’re reading someone’s truth, someone’s late-night battles, someone’s quiet scream.
And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find your own reflection hidden in these verses.
Final Thought
Maybe we don’t need perfect endings to find peace.
Maybe some goodbyes aren’t meant to be spoken — only felt, only written.
And maybe the most beautiful stories are the ones that never truly end…
just linger in the spaces between hearts,
waiting to be read,
waiting to be understood.
If you’ve ever loved and lost, stayed silent, or held back a goodbye — this place is for you.
Let’s turn all the unsaid things into something unforgettable.
Welcome to Unwritten Goodbyes. 🕊️
