Unsent

Some memories stay folded inside us, like letters never mailed.

I miss you.
Not always — but in quiet moments,
when memory drifts gently backwards,
and I’m laughing again,
curled into the arms I thought were home.

I miss the warmth of your hug —
the kind that made me forget how cold I had been.

I hope you’re okay.
I hope the world is being gentle with you,
even if you never told it to be.

Maybe one day, I’ll check in
and it won’t ache anymore.
Maybe one day, I’ll ask “How are you?”
and not feel twelve versions of heartbreak behind it.

Maybe, in another life,
you’ll love me right —
fully, bravely, without leaving.

But in this life…
I go forward.
Carrying the soft truth that
some part of me will always,
quietly,
belong to you.