The Archive of Unspoken Words

Nestled in the folds of reality,
A library of whispers and silence stands.
Its shelves stretch beyond mortal comprehension,
Laden with the weight of the unsaid.

Here, forgotten words hang like ripe fruit,
Their meanings preserved in amber stillness.
Dust motes dance in shafts of timeless light,
Each particle a letter never written.

The hesitant lover comes, fingers trembling,
Seeking the “I love you” swallowed by fear.
They find it nestled between “what if” and “almost,”
Its potential burning bright as a newborn star.

A child, grown old, searches for “I’m proud of you,”
Words their father could never quite form.
They discover them pressed between pages of regret,
Fragile as butterfly wings, potent as truth.

Politicians slink through shadowed aisles,
Hunting for promises made and conveniently misplaced.
They leave empty-handed, unable to bear
The weight of accountability found here.

Poets wander, drunk on possibility,
Inhaling the heady scent of unborn verses.
They scribble furiously, trying to capture
The ephemeral beauty of the might-have-been.