The page was blank, but felt like weight
Each line I wrote came far too late
You read the words but missed the sound
Of everything not written down
I held the pen like holding breath
Afraid to write the kind of death
Slow ink bleeding through the page
Telling truths I couldn’t say
Still soft enough to feel sincere
Still slow enough to keep you near
I never meant to send you this
A quiet grief, a missing kiss
But here it is, too slow, too soon
Like scribbled dreams beneath the moon