Never Tell Your Love Poem by Mohammad Yousef

In the quiet corners of our lives,
where shadows linger like whispered secrets,
you and I danced,
not in the light of day,
but in the soft, hidden glow of the moon,
where silence spoke louder
than any proclamation could.

We wore our hearts like delicate veils,
each heartbeat a pulse of unspoken dreams,
each glance a tether,
drawing us closer,
yet keeping the world at bay—
a fragile fortress of unuttered words.

In crowded rooms,
we stood, worlds apart,
yet I felt your warmth
like an ember igniting the cool air,
a silent flame, flickering,
threatening to spill over
if only we dared to let it.

Never tell your love, they said,
as if the act of speaking
could somehow wither the bloom,
as if the weight of truth
would crush the tender petals of our desire.
But how can one hold back
the surge of a river,
the swell of the tide,
the rush of the wind?

Oh, how we laughed,
how we shared our lives in stolen moments,
our fingers brushing,
an electric spark igniting the mundane,
our words weaving a tapestry
only we could read,
the language of the heart,
a dialect of longing.

But still, we wore our masks,
crafted from the fabric of caution,
smiling at the world,
while our souls cried out,
a symphony of what-ifs,
a chorus of might-have-beens,
echoing in the chasms of our chests.

And there we stood,
two souls adrift in the vastness,
the uncharted waters of what we felt,
while the world spun on,
unaware of the gravity of our silence,
the beauty of our restraint.

Never tell your love,
they whispered,
as if love were a fragile bird,
a spark that might extinguish
if exposed to the harshness of the sun.
But in the depths of night,
with only the stars as our witnesses,
I knew we were wildflowers,
rooted deep in the soil of our souls,
unafraid to bloom in the dark.

So here we are,
lost and found in the labyrinth of our hearts,
where every unspoken word hangs heavy,
and every glance ignites a thousand fires.
Perhaps this is enough,
to know the pulse of your heart,
to feel the warmth of your gaze,
to understand that love,
in its most beautiful form,
can exist without definition,
a quiet storm,
a gentle rain,
never needing to be told,
never needing to be named.