Oh, unwritten letter, silent in your sleeve,
A story unspoken, a tale you weave,
Your pages blank, your ink not bled,
A chorus of whispers, unsaid, unread.

You linger in the mind, a thought half-formed,
A ghostly presence, quiet, warm,
In the realm of might-have-been,
Where dreams and shadows intertwine.

What secrets would your lines impart?
What whispers from the beating heart?
A lover's plea, a friend's embrace,
A memory lost, a time, a place.

You hold the weight of what’s unsaid,
A promise kept, a hope that's fed,
In the silence of your empty space,
A world of meaning, a fragile grace.

Oh, unwritten letter, your time will come,
When words will flow, and thoughts will hum,
Till then, you rest, a quiet might,
A dream suspended in the night.

For every silence, there's a song,
For every right, there is a wrong,
In you, the balance of both resides,
In you, the heart’s true voice abides.