I found my name on a page I never touched. The handwriting knew me better than I did. The envelope carried my signature, The date was years ahead. A sentence sat there waiting For words I never said. The ink held no hesitation, No tremor in the line. Like whoever left it there Had already lived my side The apology I never wrote Was waiting in my room. Every word felt familiar, Every truth felt borrowed too. I searched for the author, I searched for the proof... But the hardest thing to question Was the handwriting I knew. People spoke in careful fragments, Like they were protecting me. They mentioned doors I opened, Places I was never seen. A stranger knew the ending Of a story I denied. He said, "You finally said it," I said, "I never tried." The apology I never wrote Had my fingerprints in place. A confession without a memory, A mirror without a face. I kept chasing the answer, Until the answer moved... The person I was looking for Was the person I removed. I burned the letter slowly. Watched the paper lose its shape. But ashes kept the message Long after fire took the page. The apology I never wrote... Was the only thing I left behind.
