Silent Screams

"Silent Screams" is a lament for love misunderstood. This poem is a raw and deeply personal exploration of the anguish of being misunderstood in love. It reflects the suffocating pain of unreciprocated feelings, the burden of carrying unwavering loyalty, and the silent agony of shielding someone from harm—even as they wound you. A heartfelt meditation on selfless devotion and the tragedy of love unseen, it delves into the resilience required to endure, love, and let go.

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The worst pain in the world is being told your feelings aren’t real.

When tears flood your eyes, and your world lies shattered in ruins,

You plead with reality, "This cannot be. It cannot be real."

Yet, the one who broke your heart treads upon those shattered fragments,

Grinding them further into dust, as they say with unwavering certainty:

"What you feel isn’t real. It isn’t genuine. You must be pretending."

But how could they know,

When it is your chest that tightens, your throat that constricts?

They ask you, with incredulity dripping from their voice,

"Why are you being so kind?"—as if kindness is foreign to their understanding.

To them, it must be a façade, a ruse. "It can't be real."

And you silently scream into the void of their disbelief:

"You would know if you had loved me. You would feel the weight of each stab it takes to remain so gentle with you."

Gentle enough that, even as they twist the blade deeper,

You cannot bring yourself to retaliate.

And when they mock you seeing your grief, all you can think is

"May you never know the same suffering you are putting me through."

They question your sincerity, mock your tears,

Laugh at your anguish, but you—the silent keeper of love—know the truth:

You could destroy them with words sharper than their cruelty,

Tear them apart as easily as they shred you.

But you cannot. You will not.

Because to love truly is to shield them,

Even from the storm that rages within you.

Perhaps now you understand why your love seems so impossible to them.

It wasn’t a lie, nor a pretense—it was your essence.

But how could they believe in something they have never known?

Why would they trust that you would do for them

What they would never dream of doing for you?

And so you carry this unyielding, unconditional love,

A burden heavier than any, for it refuses to fade.

Even as they wound you and wish you dead,

It grows resilient, tolerant, enduring.

Perhaps that is why true lovers last beyond eternity—

Because it is borne by those strong enough to love from the depths of their soul.

Unrequited love is a tragedy, a cross to bear.

It clings to you with relentless tenacity,

Even when the one you love dismisses you,

Mocks you, leaves you in the gutter.

Yet, from the depths of that gutter,

You would rise again—just to shield them from harm.

It is like loving your enemy,

Not because you are too weak to fight,

But because you are strong enough to endure the blows,

Strong enough to choose suffering over causing them harm.

And in this quiet tragedy lies the ultimate irony:

Love, even unreciprocated, has the power to make you divine.

It teaches you compassion, molds you into selflessness,

So that you do not choose goodness—it becomes who you are.

When you said my feelings were false,

I laughed inside, even as I crumbled.

If only you knew—I would die for you.

When you told me you had no one but your family,

Not even me,

I wanted to scream, "You would always have me, even if you kill me."

Even if you discarded me,

Even if you destroyed me,

Even if you cast me into the darkness—

I would rise from that darkness to save you.

Sometimes, in my moments of insanity,

I dare to imagine—if only you could have truly understood my love,

Truly grasped the depth of my loyalty—

You would hold me tightly,

And you would never, ever let me go.

The hardest thing I have ever done in this life

Was standing before you, bursting with love,

Yet restraining myself,

Letting you attack me without a word.

You saw my calm exterior and doubted,

But you never looked down at all the gaping wounds I was full of,

The bleeding heart, the stabs and scars you left in me.

I am not false;

I am a soul that feels what you have never felt.

You, who think of vengeance and yourself, lash out and strike,

But I do not respond,

Because I choose you over my pain.

If I whispered the same words of bitterness,

You would leave me without a second glance.

Yet, you tear me apart with ease,

And my love for you remains unshaken.

Who, then, is the stronger of us?

But love is selfless, so I shall not trouble you with my presence again.

If I was not enough for you,

Go, and find the happiness that eluded you in me.

Even in the torment you have given me,

I do not wish suffering upon you.

Your peace will always be my prayer,

Even at the cost of my own.

I just lament one thing that you couldn't even fathom

How fiercely, intensely and insanely I love you

If only you had known.

But it is difficult—unbearably so—to live each day without you,

Each second feels like a battle against the void you’ve left behind.

Even as I feel myself disintegrating,

Weakening under the weight of this emptiness,

I know I must endure. For your sake.

You wish me gone, wish me dead,

And so, I will stay far away.

Even as it tears me apart, I will disappear for you.

© 2024 Inaba Tarek