I dream of you. I wake up and pick up my phone to text you.
There’s an uneasy lump in my throat as I type you a two page text.
I spill my heart out on these pages.
I read all I’ve written, twice I think.
My finger hovers over the send button, heart pounding against my chest.
I’m wondering what your response would be
Would I get a response at all?
I think about the things you said, the things I’d said and my chest races in doubt.
I miss you.
You were special, I cared about you, hell, I may have even loved you.
I’m thankful for the moments we shared.
I never wanted to let you go.
I wish we had talked.
Now I’m sitting in my bed, all alone, thinking of you, staring down at this typed text, ready to be sent.
My finger is still hovering.
I miss your smile, the way your eyes lit up every time you were laughing at something I was saying.
I miss your brown eyes, that glimmer they held, those unspoken promises right before you kissed me…
I swallow hard, breath heavily,
damn this is hard!
I sigh, again.
Finally, I press a finger firmly down to my screen, the entire text highlights and I press delete
There is no point, too much time has passed.