Years have passed, yet it keeps wandering from drawer to drawer—a letter. The words begin to blur, but their meaning cuts deeper across the worn edges of the letter. A fragile heart held back for far too long, while regret keeps flowing through the closing lines of the letter. Longing too afraid to reveal itself; my voice wears away into silence but my pen still speaks through the letter. A pitiful hope—it never arrived, nor will it ever be held by the one meant to receive the letter.