Found it tucked away

Found it tucked away,

in a box, old and deep.

The paper yellowing gray,

a secret I meant to keep.

Addressed, no stamp,

my own frantic hand.

A dying lamp,

a story unplanned.

The words still there,

a raw, pleading plea.

Hanging in air,

for no one but me.

The heavy silence it bore,

the moment I pulled back.

Never crossed that door,

never left its track.

Just sits, a folded sigh,

a breath I never took.

A ghost of a goodbye,

an unread, forgotten book.