Love letters

love letters
are folded fragments of the heart
each word a fingertip
tracing what couldn’t be spoken aloud
they carry the ache of pauses
the space between what was felt
and what was dared to be written
some were sent
others tucked away
their paper yellowing in drawers
their ink fading like memory
yet still holding the hush
of almost-forevers
what remains is not the letter
but the ache of knowing
it once lived in someone’s hands
and never quite reached mine



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