Pages of her Pulse

Pages of her Pulse "Words I never said out loud—maybe they’ll find you here." This page is where I leave pieces of my soul—raw, honest,
sometimes messy, but always true.

Welcome to Pages of Her Pulse,
A sanctuary of soft words, untamed emotions, and heart-spilled confessions. I’ve always found comfort in unsent letters, the quiet between songs,
and the poetry that lingers in pain and healing. Here, you’ll find stories of what once was, what could have been,
and what still aches quietly inside. I’m not just writing for myself—
I’m writing for every woman who ever l

oved too loudly,
for every heart that remembers what it wants to forget. These are the pages of my pulse,
and if they resonate with yours,
then welcome home. 🌙

29/06/2025

“I’m Not Asking for Forever”

Will you understand the meaning of my touch
if, by chance, I reach for your hand in the middle of a passing street?
We’ve always walked parallel,
different roads, different lives —
but on those rare days our paths brush…
can I still whisper in the silence that you were my best kind of love?

I’m not here to rewrite the story or chase another beginning.
I don’t want you to fall for me
in fact, I’ve accepted we are better where we are now…
apart.
But maybe — just maybe —
if our eyes meet across the noise of the world,
could we let that old warmth return,
just for a moment?
Not to stay — just enough to remember we once felt deeply.

Memories are flashes of tragedies dressed as lullabies.
I’m not strong enough for another chapter that ends in silence.
I’m just looking for milliseconds —
tiny bursts of what once was,
and that soft ache that reminds me I once had the capacity to love so wildly.

If ever our fingers brush again,
will you freeze?
Will your pulse stutter like it once did —
or will you pull away like nothing ever existed?

I know none of this makes perfect sense.
But I’ll say it still:
I’m not looking for your love.
I’m just trying to find the part of me that loved you so honestly,
so unconditionally.

Because maybe —
just maybe —
when she rises in me again,
this time she’ll learn to choose me.

28/04/2025

There was a quiet understanding between us — the kind that didn’t need words but always left too much unsaid.
We weren’t a love story, not in the way people expect.
We were a pause, a moment, an almost.

He didn’t love me — not the way I loved him.
But I knew him.
I knew the way his lips pressed into a thin line when he was trying not to say something. I knew how he laughed when he found something genuinely funny — not just to be polite. I knew the silence he carried, and the ache in his eyes he never spoke of.
And in return, he knew I was soft — too soft. That I’d stay even if it hurt. That I’d love in the quiet, in the in-between, in the way I wrote about him even when he had long stopped reading.

We didn’t break.
We faded.
And maybe that’s the saddest kind of ending — the one that doesn’t give you closure, just distance.

But if he ever reads this, I hope he knows —
I never wanted to be unforgettable.
I just wanted to be remembered in the quiet moments.
The way I still remember him.

11/04/2025

Sometimes, grief and love taste the same.
Like hope, like hollow dreams, like all the endless possibilities that never got their chance. When haunted by the what ifs and could-have-been, life passes quietly, unnoticed, like background music to a story that never played out.
I often wonder—if I had just one moment of courage… if I had asked you to stay, would you have?
Would it have changed everything… or nothing at all?
Love, I’ve learned, is the most unimaginable question and its own impossible answer.
I don’t remember you saying my name with love.
But I remember everything else.
The way your face twitched when you were nervous,
The way you looked away when something made you shy.
I knew your habits like I knew my breath—
What you would say next, how you’d react, what made you laugh and what didn’t.
You never loved me.
But I memorized you like a favorite song I could never sing out loud. I loved you without caution, without safety nets—
Every part of me laid bare for you.
Even the parts you hurt only knew how to love you back.
But now, I don’t love the same.
Something in me holds back.
Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s wisdom.
Either way, love is different now.
And so am I. The countless letters I’ve written to forget you…
They all echo the same truth:
Letting go of you feels like breaking my own heart, again and again.
"Goodbye" is no longer a word—
It’s a beginning, a middle, and an end.
In every letter, there are things left unsaid.
Words that never made it past the lump in my throat.
Feelings I buried instead of confessing.
Sometimes, I wonder what kind of love is better—
The one that stays, without conditions?
Or the one that burns like it’s the last moment you’ll ever have together?
Maybe love is the strangest thing I’ve ever tasted,
And your name is the bittersweet memory that will forever linger on my lips.
Maybe in another universe, you’d be mine.
And our love would be a forever kind of story.
But in this one, it will stay buried—quietly—
In a corner of my heart, wrapped in a prayer to forget.
But even after everything,
I don’t regret us.
We were fleeting.
We were intense.
We were magic.

We were an unforgettable, beautiful interlude called love.

10/04/2025

🕊️ Pages of Her Pulse
Every word here is a heartbeat —
every line, a whisper of what the soul couldn’t speak aloud.
This isn’t just poetry; it’s what it feels like to be alive —
raw, tender, uncertain, aching, and quietly brave.
These are not just pages;
they are the pieces of a woman still learning how to breathe through ink.

Welcome to her silence,
Welcome to her storm.

— Ashna 🤍

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