They say I'm just a cliché poet,
Caught in the endless loop of romance and heartbreak—
Was it my fault to love her,
Or to love you without blame?
But now I realize the fault was yours—
You never knew I loved you,
Never felt the weight of my unspoken words.

Amen, my feelings are so cliché,
Just a hopeless romantic,
Writing his emotions,
Yet having none to share.
He bleeds onto paper,
His heart a broken pen that spills ink.
God knows what his sin was.
Maybe in this generation, kindness is a fragile glass,
Shattered by careless hands.
Maybe loving wholeheartedly is just a pastime for someone else,
A fleeting breeze through an open window,
Gone before you can savor its warmth.
Maybe moving on is easy—
But how can I, when I loved truly?...