At the end of the day,
all the letters will remain unsent.
No matter how long and poetic it sounds,
I will keep it hidden.
I will not let you read them.
If you happen to find them,
I'll say they are not meant for you.
The letters are lonely; they are painful.
They are for the wind that reminds me of your embrace,
the moon that is enchanting as your eyes,
and the song that makes me miss you.
They are for my aching heart.
Not yours, never.
You are love.
A gift wrapped with lessons and laughter.
No matter how things turned out for us,
you are the happiness my heart can still recognize.
If you happen to read the letters,
unread them,
they are not meant for you.
