A Thousand Words Too Late

A picture is worth a 1,000 words, but what about the words unspoken or the story not shown

A Thousand Words Too Late

The photo showed the love—
tilted heads and tangled hands,
sunlight kissing our cheeks
like it believed in us.

Our smiles were rehearsed perfection,
polished and framed,
hung on walls where strangers
whispered, “You look so happy.”

They said a picture is worth
a thousand words—
but ours only knew how to lie fluently.

It didn’t show the silence
that lived between us,
how it stretched across the bed
like a cold, unspoken truth.

It didn’t show the way
my laughter trembled at the edges,
how your eyes were already
searching for exits
outside the frame.

No one looked beyond the gloss,
beyond the filtered glow
and borrowed joy.

They didn’t see
how my hands held on
a little too tight,
how your fingers curled
like they were counting seconds.

A thousand words, they said—
but not one of them
told the story of the cracks
beneath our perfect pose.

Because some photos
don’t capture love—
they capture performance.

And sometimes the brightest smile
is just the shadow
of something
already gone.