Invisible Kin

The card was folded thin, tucked away

beneath forgotten tomes on dusty shelves.

Yellowed edges soft as whispered years—

a birthday wish I never heard aloud.

Ink faded like a voice that slips away,

a name half-remembered on cracked paper.

You, a stranger stitched into the margins

of my quiet life, a ghost I didn’t call.

Why now does the silence crack?

Why does the weight of unspoken things press?

I hold the card like brittle skin,

finger the faded script, and wonder.