Unsent messages,
Notes on a paper,
Many unsaid words saved for later.
Crammed in a drawer,
Or crumbled on the floor.
They contained secrets,
They held lyrics to songs
All signed with “I love you”s
Though none saw it through.
Only the poet knows,
How everyone goes,
And whom it’s for
The lover who has gone out the door.
The poet still writes,
In the late hours of the night,
In the hope that they
Will fly far away.