The Hope That Maybe the Silence Wasn't Meant to Sting

This poem explores the quiet ache of being blocked unexpectedly after a heartfelt exchange and reflects on the regret of having done the same to others.

You said thank you, then shut the door. A sentence cut mid-thought, a kindness half revealed.

I searched for the rest in the folds of a “read more,” but your page turned away before I could finish mine.

Did you mean to block the light? Or was it a fingertip mistake, an accidental exile while reaching for something else?

I ask because, I’ve done it too. Blocked souls who didn’t deserve silence.

Clicked wrong. Or misunderstood the shape of their words before they settled.

And somewhere, someone may be holding my voice like a shard they didn’t mean to catch, wondering, aching, doubting.

To them I say: I’m sorry if the silence stung. You mattered more than a mistake could measure.

So now, I carry both the hope and the understanding, that silence isn’t always cruel, sometimes it’s clumsy.

And if this was one of those times, know this: even unfinished gratitude deserves to be felt in full.

Author's Note

Sometimes we lose each other mid-sentence, through technical slip-ups or emotional missteps. This poem is both a response and a reflection: to those who closed the door without meaning to, and to those we might have unintentionally shut out ourselves.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

I have mixed feelings about blocking. I certainly won't do it after receiving literary criticism, which I might use to my advantage. On the other hand, this site has a notorious troll, a mental case who seems to enjoy hurting others. After having borne his wrath for an extended period, I finally did block him, fully aware that he might reappear in a new identity, a trick he has used on others. Thankfully, he has kept his distance, so I keep the blocking option open.

[Gregoria Ahmed]

Thank you for sharing that, John. I understand that sometimes blocking is a necessary boundary, especially when kindness is met with harm. I appreciate your openness and reflection.

[.]

Wow! What a powerful feeling, and these words helped to remove from me a regret I had been feeling very heavily lately. There are very beautiful words and they are expressed with very poweful feelings. I read it again and again and I will silence the regrets, knowing that I am not going through this alone. Thank you for sharing.

[Gregoria Ahmed]

I’m moved that the poem helped lift a weight you’d been carrying. I wrote it from that same place, hoping to make sense of the ache we sometimes inflict unknowingly, and the grace we still deserve. Knowing it resonated enough for you to read it again and again… that’s the kind of connection that turns silence into healing. Thank you, deeply, for reading with your heart open and for reminding me that even shared regrets can lead to redemption. Apologies for the delay in responding. I do my best to stay consistent with replying to readers here, but I've been under the weather for a few days and am now on the mend.

[Davidgeo]

You are very generous with your emotions. It is a gift, but also a burden. Common mistakes might haunt you unnecessarily. Other people's shortcomings may weigh on you. The generous person sometimes forgets to take care of their own house.

[Gregoria Ahmed]

Thank you, Davidgeo, for your thoughtful words. You're right, being empathetic and generous with my emotions can be both a blessing and a challenge. I'll definitely keep in mind to prioritize my own well-being and boundaries, so I can continue to support others without burning out. Appreciate your insight!