Folded Words

I found it folded,

creased paper hiding in shadows,

a letter I wrote years ago,

words pressed thin with silence.

Ink smudged by careless hands,

stains from breaths I held,

half a story locked in pen,

a confession wrapped in doubt.

It smells faintly of rain,

a ghost between paper folds,

a weight I carried too long,

a voice I never let go.

It sits unsent,

a quiet monument

to what was never spoken,

to regrets folded tight

and tucked beneath the dust.