There are messages we never send, words we keep folded between the pages of time. Maybe it’s fear, or maybe it’s love — too fragile to let go. Yet even in silence, those words live on, carrying the weight of what was meant to be said. This poem is about such a note — one that was never sent, but never forgotten.
The Note You Never Sent
I found the words upon the page,
a fleeting voice, a fleeting stage.
You wrote of skies, of restless seas,
of gentle winds, of memories.
But folded tight, it stayed unseen,
a secret kept of what had been.
The ink still spoke, though torn, unsent,
a message more than words had meant.
And though it never reached my hand,
its silence I still understand.
For love sometimes must hide, repent,
like shadows in a note unsent.
Not every message has to be delivered to reach its destination. Sometimes, love whispers more through what remains unsent — in the quiet spaces between words.
