Unreturned Pages

Pages yellow and curling,

a spine cracked but still whole—

a secret tucked between dust

and forgotten furniture.

I found it hiding behind a stack of magazines,

someone else’s handwriting

smudged in the margin,

a ghost caught in a room

where silence has grown too loud.

The book never came back,

a quiet theft folded

into the spaces between us,

thicker than dust

and too soft to grasp.

I press my fingers to the cover,

trace the crack that holds

all the unread words

we never spoke.