April 4: Whispered Secrets
I don’t think you understand
what you set in motion.
Not something fleeting,
something that moved beneath the surface,
quiet, controlled…
and never really left.
It wasn’t just words.
It was the way my breath shifted
before I could stop it,
the way my body recognized something
it had no business knowing,
and answered anyway.
You met me there.
In that charged, unspoken space
where everything felt
just slightly closer
to something real.
And then you stayed within your world.
Close enough to feel,
never quite stepping beyond it.
That’s where it remains.
Not in memory…
in tension.
Because I was open to something more,
not reckless,
not hidden,
but honest,
fully chosen…
fully lived.
I wasn’t afraid of what it could become,
And I won’t pretend
it was anything less than real.
And now it lives like this…
a slow, steady pull
that surfaces when I don’t want it,
low in my body,
quiet but insistent.
I don’t reach for it.
But I feel it…
in the stillness,
in the moments where restraint softens
and something deeper presses forward,
familiar, magnetic,
impossible to ignore.
Not gone.
Not resolved.
Just… contained.
I’m not reaching for you,
but don’t mistake that for denial.
Because whatever this was,
it was real enough,
deep enough,
to leave something in me
that still answers
in the quiet,
like a current
that hasn’t decided
where it ends.
April writing prompts:
https://similarworlds.com/literature/creative-writing/5542996-April-Writing-Prompts-I-hope-these-inspire-you-Im-going-to
what you set in motion.
Not something fleeting,
something that moved beneath the surface,
quiet, controlled…
and never really left.
It wasn’t just words.
It was the way my breath shifted
before I could stop it,
the way my body recognized something
it had no business knowing,
and answered anyway.
You met me there.
In that charged, unspoken space
where everything felt
just slightly closer
to something real.
And then you stayed within your world.
Close enough to feel,
never quite stepping beyond it.
That’s where it remains.
Not in memory…
in tension.
Because I was open to something more,
not reckless,
not hidden,
but honest,
fully chosen…
fully lived.
I wasn’t afraid of what it could become,
And I won’t pretend
it was anything less than real.
And now it lives like this…
a slow, steady pull
that surfaces when I don’t want it,
low in my body,
quiet but insistent.
I don’t reach for it.
But I feel it…
in the stillness,
in the moments where restraint softens
and something deeper presses forward,
familiar, magnetic,
impossible to ignore.
Not gone.
Not resolved.
Just… contained.
I’m not reaching for you,
but don’t mistake that for denial.
Because whatever this was,
it was real enough,
deep enough,
to leave something in me
that still answers
in the quiet,
like a current
that hasn’t decided
where it ends.
April writing prompts:
https://similarworlds.com/literature/creative-writing/5542996-April-Writing-Prompts-I-hope-these-inspire-you-Im-going-to
51-55, F
