How strange is it to ache for a place I've never been,
for arms that have never held me,
for the warmth of a chest to lean into
as if I belonged there before I ever learned to love.
There is a homesickness in me
for someone who has no map to where I live,
I wait like a lantern,
hoping a traveler will recognize my glow.
I imagine someone brave enough,
to gather every jagged thorn I've grown in defense,
to trace their cruel edges with tender hands,
and not be scared to bleed.
Sometimes I feel I am made entirely of unsent letters,
spilling with ink that had no paper to write against,
crumpled and tucked inside my chest.
The sweetest words fermenting in the dark
with no address to belong to.
Still, they flutter inside me
like moths begging for a porch light.
I dream of understanding that blooms like late spring,
the kind of intimacy that doesn't demand gifts, only understanding.
Gentle fingertips that read my heart,
like I'm worth more than gold.
Someone who looks at me like I am the gentlest rain
they could drown in.
I yearn so violently for a lover who looks at me
like I am the prettiest piece of poetry they've read.
To scatter their kisses like petals across caramel-tinted skin,
as if I were the very oxygen they desired to breathe.
Yet these are only the wishes of my dreams,
I try to make peace with all my loneliness
letting it dissolve on my tongue like the last ripe peaches in spring,
before the season dries, and the fruit rots.
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138,680 Literary Works • 672,231 Reviews
Beautiful poem. I agree with other readers that the line "I am made entirely of unsent letters" is striking in its tone and originality. My favourite line, however, would have to be this one: "The sweetest words fermenting in the dark with no address to belong to," mainly because I just love how the two words "sweetest" and "fermenting" sound when you put them together; it really conveys the passion and yearning of the persona to be loved and held, to the point of insanity. This poem really spoke to me, as I feel the same way quite often, which is why I will say this is one of my favourite poems on YWS that I have ever read. Have a wonderful night
Aww, thank you for reading my poem Emi!!! <3<3<3
No problem <3 I just read your profile and it's cool you want to travel the world. Where do you plan on going first?
This poem is just beautiful. I love the image of being "made entirely of unsent letters" and those sweet words "fermenting in the dark." It perfectly expresses that feeling of having so much love to give but nowhere for it to land. But I especially love the park were you said, " Gentle fingertips that read my heart, like I'm worth more than gold." and the part were you said,"I yearn so violently for a lover who looks at me like I am the prettiest piece of poetry they've read. To scatter their kisses like petals across caramel-tinted skin, as if I were the very oxygen they desired to breathe."UGGHHHH I LOVE THAT PART SOOO MUCHH. This poem is really good. Keep up the good work.
Thank you for the review, and for reading my poem!! ^^
Np
hey youbecupid! i LOVED this poem, so real, so relatable! let me tell u how i felt-
This piece is soaked in longing—the soft kind that doesn’t cry out loud but lives quietly under the ribs. Reading it feels like stepping into someone’s private midnight, where hope glows dimly but refuses to go out. There’s something almost bananas about how deeply the speaker aches for a love they’ve never touched, yet it feels completely real, like a memory from a dream you’re convinced actually happened.
The imagery of unsent letters and moths beating at the dark is heartbreakingly gentle. It gives the sense of a soul that’s been waiting so long it has learned to turn loneliness into a kind of fragile art. And the way the poem imagines a lover brave enough to hold thorns without flinching—it hits like that quiet moment when you admit you want to be chosen without having to ask.
There’s a sweetness running through the poem, but it’s the kind that stings a little, like fruit almost too ripe. The “last ripe peaches in spring” line lingers; it feels like that moment when you taste something beautiful and know you can’t keep it forever. The whole piece carries that feeling—soft, desperate, glowing, and painfully human.
It’s the kind of poem that makes you close your eyes for a second afterward, just to sit with the ache it leaves behind.- keep wrting!