Letters I Never Sent
Some words are too fragile to ever find their way home.
By Emma Published about a year ago • 1 min read

Image created by author using the seaArt
I wrote your name in quiet nights,
Between the wrongs, between the rights.
Each word a tear, each line a plea,
For love that lived but couldn’t be.
The paper drank my trembling hands,
It knew the truth no one understands.
I sealed the pain with fragile hope,
Yet never mailed the envelope.
Perhaps you’d smile, or maybe cry,
Perhaps you’d ask me simply why.
But silence built its heavy wall,
And I could never risk the fall.
So in a box they softly sleep,
These letters buried, secrets deep.
And though you’ll never know their hue,
Each word was simply meant for you.
Thanks For Reading 🤍🩷🤍🩷🤍🩷
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