There must be
A library somewhere,
Where every word
We almost spoke
Sleeps between the pages
Of unwritten books.
On one shelf,
A thousand apologies
Never brave enough
To leave trembling lips.
On another,
Confessions of love
Folded carefully
Into silence,
Waiting for a courage
That arrived too late.
I wonder
If the librarians
Read them at night.
If they smile
At the stories
That could have changed
An entire lifetime
With only one sentence.
Perhaps,
Somewhere in that quiet place,
There is a book
With your name
Written on the cover.
And inside,
Just three words...
That remained unwritten,
Not because they weren't true,
But because
The right moment
Never turned the page.
YOU ARE READING
The Library of Unsaid Things
PoetryThe Library of Unsaid Things is a meditation on silence, missed moments, and the words that never found their voice. It imagines a place where every unspoken apology, every hidden confession, and every conversation that remained unfinished is preser...
