Unsent Letter

I wrote you a letter I’ll never send, Folded with tears I didn’t intend. It sleeps in a drawer beside my bed, With words I meant, but never said. “Dear you,” it starts, with shaking hands, “I hope you’re safe in distant lands.” I speak of nights I dreamt too loud, Of memories hidden in a cloud. I wrote of smiles I still recall, The way you laughed, the way you’d fall Asleep while talking, eyes half-closed— Those little things I miss the most. I didn’t send it, couldn’t try, Too scared to hear no last goodbye. But still, it rests where no one sees, A paper hug, a heart’s release. If someday you feel a whisper near, It might be my words you hear— Carried by wind, soft as a feather, From the pages of my unsent letter.