A Letter I Never Meant to Keep

A Letter I Never Meant to Keep

If you’re reading this with your heart,

please know it’s trembling in mine.

Not every silence is empty—

some are filled with everything

I couldn’t say

when you were close enough to hear it.

There were days I carried your name

like a fragile thing in my chest,

afraid that if I spoke it aloud,

it would break.

Or maybe I would.

I miss you in ways that don’t fit into language.

Like a melody I hum

but never learned the words to.

Like standing in the rain

without knowing if I’m being cleansed

or just left cold.

You changed the way I see the sky.

Even now, I look up

and think of how you once told me

clouds are just the sky trying to hold its tears.

I think I finally understand.

I wish I had loved you louder.

Not with more words,

but with more silence shared.

More glances that stayed longer.

More time given without counting.

Sometimes, I find pieces of you in the strangest places—

in laughter I didn’t expect,

in dreams that leave me aching,

in the way my hands still open

as if you might take them.

This is not a poem,

and not quite a confession.

It’s the weight of missing you

folded into the corners of these lines,

and all I hope is—

that somewhere,

you feel it.