It is a quiet kind of
hurting—
to love with every corner
of your soul,
and find no echo,
no equal flame in return.
Only your bed,
your pillow,
and the night remain—
silent witnesses
to the weight of your
pain,
to the fragile rhythm
of a heart slowly
breaking,
to each desperate breath
fighting for its place in
the dark.
It aches—
to be surrounded by
everyone,
yet held by no one.
To have voices around,
but none that truly hear
the trembling of your
silence.
Through the sleepless
hours,
you search for solace,
and slowly, your breath
learns
to steady itself.
You think,
and at last, you accept—
perhaps all this
circles back to you.
The sole reason.
And so, you silently
shoulder the blame of
others,
as if it were your own.
When the night deepens,
your heart begins its
battle again—
pounding fiercely,
as though fighting
for its life, its soul.
Your breath tightens,
panic rises like a tide,
and you realise—
your body has fallen
into the grip of a storm.
You try to calm the
chaos,
breathing in and out,
until the hard night
loosens its hold.
And when dawn arrives,
you rise as if nothing
happened—
wearing the same soft
smile,
the same unguarded
light,
like the playful,
unbroken girl
you once were.
***
Amutha S Nair
Student, BA English, Government Victoria College, Palakkad
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