Title: The Words I Didn't Say Poem by ashok jadhav

(The speaker sits alone, voice heavy, occasionally breaking, hands trembling as if trying to hold onto what is already gone. Their eyes dart to the floor, then to an imaginary figure.)
Monologue:
I should have said it.
I should have done it.
I should have loved you better, harder… differently.
But I didn't.
And now… now there is only silence where laughter once lived,
only emptiness where warmth should have been.
Do you know what it is to wake up every day
and remember every mistake you made,
every harsh word, every moment of pride…
and realize they cost you someone who mattered more than anything?
I do.
I live it.
I breathe it.
I am drowning in it.
I thought time would heal.
I thought you would understand.
But the truth… the cruel truth…
is that some doors, once closed, never open again.
And some hearts, once broken,
cannot be put back together—not by apology, not by tears, not by promises.
I see you in my mind. I hear your laugh.
And it kills me… every time…
that I let it slip away.
That I let us slip away.
I am left only with regret,
with memories that cut sharper than any betrayal,
with love… that came too late, or perhaps… that I gave too little.
(Pauses, voice softening to a whisper, trembling with grief.)
I wish I could go back.
I wish I could change everything.
But I can't.
All I have is this aching, this emptiness…
and the knowledge that some losses are permanent.
(The speaker lowers their head, hands clutching their chest, as if trying to hold onto the fragments of a love they lost forever.)