Unsent.

I had a hundred things 

I wanted to tell you, 

the small ones, sharp ones,

the kind that live under the tongue.

I wanted to say

I miss you in ways I can't understand.


To say what kept me awake, 

what scared me, what stayed.


I wanted to say 

that your silence cuts

exactly where your voice once lived.


But I won't.

Not today.

Not to you.


You'll read none of this, 

and still, somehow, 

you'll feel it.





Coraline

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