🫀Jjanhada(짠하다)1; The Quiet Sting of What’s Left Unsaid

🫀Jjanhada(짠하다)1

A wind like broken glass brushes the chest—
cold, fine, and gone too quickly.
Tears don’t fall, but the sting blooms behind the eyes.
The emotion threads itself softly across the skin,
as if it’s trying to say something,
but slips past in silence.
Like a single tear held forever by memory.

🫀Jjanhada(짠하다)1

A goodbye spoken too politely to mean “don’t go.” A person packing lunch for one, again. A tear wiped quickly before anyone sees. A child’s drawing in a cracked frame. A message ending with “take care,” when it once ended with “I miss you.” Jjanhada lives in these moments— the weight of what we don’t say, what we almost felt, and what remains long after it’s gone.