Love Letters I Never Sent

There are words that live in the silence between my thoughts. Letters written in invisible ink, meant for no one, but somehow meant for someone. I’ve crafted entire paragraphs in the quietest hours of the night, folded into dreams, sealed with uncertainty, and left unread. Not because I lacked the courage to send them, but because some feelings are too soft for this world. Too personal to be placed in trembling hands.Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I did send them. Would they be held close? Would they be understood? Or would they just dissolve, like whispers against the wind?

Each letter was a moment captured. A heartbeat. A version of me trying to reach someone who may never know. I wrote about stargazing and staying up too late. About thoughts that spilled when I looked at the moon, about the way people carry pieces of others inside them. I wrote about love, not the loud, dramatic kind. But the quiet kind. The kind that sits beside you in your thoughts when you think you're alone.

And maybe I’ll never send them.But I don’t regret writing them.Because in those letters, I was honest.Even if no one ever reads them, I know they’re real.Maybe that’s what the universe is, a library of unsent love letters. Maybe we’re all just energy passing through, pulling pieces of each other across lifetimes. Souls tangled in constellations, meeting and missing each other like stars in slow orbit.

Sometimes I wonder if the ache we feel late at night isn’t loneliness, but recognition. A soul remembering another. A whisper from some past life, calling out in silence. There are moments when I stare at the stars and feel something staring back, not a person, but a familiarity. As if someone, somewhere, is thinking the same thought at the same time. And even though we’re strangers in this life, our energies still recognize each other. Like a quiet pulse echoing across the universe

And if we’re meant to meet again—this time, in this life—I hope the universe is kind enough to let us remember