A Dialogue in Silence

This poem is a tender monologue between the poet’s mind and heart, grappling with the lingering weight of a past love, a girl, let’s call her Assol. The name is not literal but rather a symbolic choice, It is a conversation steeped in sorrow, reflection, and the quiet ache of memory. The poet’s mind, weary and logical, reminds the heart of the promises made: to forget, to move on, to heal. But the heart, stubborn and soft, refuses to let go, still trembling at the mention of her name.

Assol is not just a person here; she is a presence that lives in the folds of memory, in the shadows of once dreamed dreams. Though the poet has repented of her love, there is a haunting contradiction. The past continues to echo, not because of desire, but because of how deeply it was once felt.

This is not a poem about heartbreak in its storm. It is about what lingers after. About the inner war between what we know and what we feel. It is the realization that even love, once beautiful, must be folded away gently like an old letter, kept but no longer carried out loud.

Ultimately, the piece is a reflective monologue that carries an internal dialogue, a quiet emotional back and forth between the poet’s heart and mind, where reason pleads for stillness and feeling resists letting go.

04/22/2025-9:09PM

Did you not promise me, O heart,
That if I repent from her love, you would too?
Here I am, repentant of her love,
So why do you still melt at the mention of her name?

Did we not swear that longing would pass,
And that the path would lead away from hers?
Then why does yearning pull me back again
To shadows I had fled, to dreams I buried deep?

I’m tired of blaming you for weakness,
When we both have tasted the flaws of love.
I’ve declared peace within myself,
So why do you keep returning to the wars?

Let me, if I ever recall her love,
Pass over it like a fading cloud.
She’s no longer yours, yet you still cradle her name,
As if memory alone could rewrite what’s been.

And if she drifts by as a ghost in thought,
My mind trembles, and sorrow rises again.
Shall I lie to myself, knowing our promise
Was broken by us both, on every road?

I am the one who repented… yet I am weak,
For when she appears, I shatter all silence.
Alas, my heart, how cruel you’ve been
You are the first to dissolve, and the last to resist.

Isn’t it time to depart from longing?
Isn’t it time for the past to fade?
Enough, I’ve grown weary of wishing,
Of promises that limp and never heal.

I’ll carry her love quietly within my chest,
Like a letter folded, worn but never torn.
And if longing visits me once more,
I’ll greet it kindly, then watch it pass like dawn.