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.

Ponder, heave.

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.



12 thoughts on “UNREAD.”

  1. Type and delete. Lots of draft. unspoken words, pregnant with deep meanings. That shit hurts alot. Irony of it is that it hurts both ways, either you say it or not.

  2. Type and delete. Lots of draft. unspoken words, pregnant with deep meanings. That shit hurts alot. Irony of it is that it hurts both ways, either you say it or not.


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