"The Words of My Heart: A Poetic Love Story

 

Whispers Between the Lines

A love story told in poetic echoes

It began, as most quiet things do, with a glance. In the corner of a quiet bookstore tucked between the oldest street in town and the scent of forgotten pages, she saw him.

He was reading a book of poems, fingers trailing under the lines as though they were secrets only he could understand. She wasn’t sure what made her pause, maybe the way he smiled at words, like they were written just for him, or maybe it was the way he looked up eyes full of questions, like a man reading the stars.

And so the story of  Elan  and no or began not with  words with the  absence of them 

Love, Unspoken

Before the words had learned to rise,

Before the hearts had whispered wise,

There was a stillness in the air,

A knowing glance, a gentle stare.

Noor loved poetry. She believed it was the only true language of the soul. To her, every stanza was a universe; every metaphor, a path to understanding the human heart. Elan, on the other hand, wrote code for a living. He found order in logic, beauty in algorithms. Poetry, he used to say, was unpredictable. But that day, in that shop, something in the way Noor read the poem aloud to herself made him think maybe he had been wrong all along.

She was reading rumi

 "The minute I heard my first love story,

I started looking for you..."

And without realizing, he spoke the next line.

Not knowing how blind that was."

Their eyes met. That was the moment they started writing their story, line by line.

Chapter One: Letters in the Wind

They began seeing each other often. Not always planned, but always welcome. At first, it was shared coffee and shy conversations about books. Noor would talk about Pablo Neruda and Maya Angelou. Elan would listen, asking questions, slowly learning the rhythm of her thoughts. In return, he showed her things too—how even code had a form of poetry.

He once told her 

:

> Love is like a loop. If it’s unconditional, it never ends."

Poem 1: The First Spark

You read between the lines I hide,

Found echoes in the words denied,

A stranger once, now part of me,

You lit a match so quietly.

In quiet corners, laughter grew,

The world around us, something new,

You spoke in verse, I learned the song,

And somehow knew where I belong.

Their friendship turned into something more. It wasn’t dramatic it was gentle, like the ocean slowly pulling the sand into its tide. Noor began writing poems just for him. Short lines left in books he might borrow, folded notes slipped into his laptop case.

One day, Elan found a poem on a sticky note stuck to his coffee mug:

I do not need grand gestures,

or stars to fall from skies

Just you beside me quietly,

with sunrise in your eyes.

He smiled. He was falling for her.

Chapter Two: Storms and Sonnets

No love story is complete without its storms.

Their first real fight happened over something small—a forgotten anniversary. Noor had remembered the day they first met; Elan, deep in a work deadline, had completely forgotten.

She felt hurt. He felt misunderstood. Words, their shared haven, now built walls instead of bridges.

For days they didn't  speak

Noor poured her pain into poems:

Poem 2: Silence Between Us

What use are poems, if not read?

What use are words, if left for dead?

You, my calm, now stir the sea,

And I, adrift, just let it be.

I wrote our names in morning dew,

But time dissolved the thought of you,

The silence grew a sharper tone,

And poems felt too cold, alone.

Elan, realizing what he’d done, decided to write back. Not with logic. Not with explanations. But with the language Noor had taught him to love.

He wrote a poem his first real one and left it in her mailbox.

If I forget the day we met,

do not think I forget you.

You’re not marked by a calendar

you live in every hour I breathe..

She cried then she smiled and then she called him

Chapter Three: Binding the Pages

Time passed seasons changed their love matured

They traveled together to the mountains, the sea, to hidden libraries in cities with names they could barely pronounce. They wrote poetry in the sand, on napkins, in their journals. They read aloud under starlight.

Elan even published a small collection called "Love, Compiled." Noor edited it. He dedicated it to “the poet who taught me to feel in languages I didn’t know I spoke.”

Poem 3: Love in Present Tense

Not the fireworks, nor roses red,

But how you laugh when things are said,

How morning coffee tastes much more,

When you're the one I'm smiling for.

Not promises, not vows to keep,

But how you breathe when fast asleep,

The little things the in-between,

That make the love, not just the scene.

One evening, as golden light spilled through their window, Elan pulled out a ring. But he didn’t kneel. Noor had once told him proposals felt staged, expected.

Instead he simply held it out in  his plan and said  if every poem is a truth then this is  mine

Noor whispered, “Yes,” and kissed the ring before sliding it onto her finger.

Chapter Four: Eternal Lines

They married in a garden filled with books. Every guest was given a poem instead of a favor. Noor walked down the aisle to a string quartet playing a soft instrumental version of her favorite Rumi lines.

They didn't promise forever they promised every day

Years later, they would sit together on their porch, old and graying. Their grandkids would ask how they fell in love. And they’d say, “Through poems we hadn’t yet written.”

Final Poem: The Ever After

Pages worn, yet words still clear,

You’re the story I hold dear.

Through chapters soft and some intense,

We wrote our love in present tense.

And if one day, I fade from view,

Let poems be my gift to you,

For in each line, a piece remains,

Of whispered joys and shared refrains.

The End  or Just a Pause

Love stories never really end. They just change form. From a glance to a word, from a poem to a memory. Noor and Elan's story may be written here in 1500 words, but it lives beyond the lines in the hearts of those who believe love can be quiet, poetic, and timeless.