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.