“I messed up.”
I only wish it didn’t
take you this long
to realize.
“Can we talk?”
My whole body aches,
yearning to say yes.
“Are you there?”
Yes, I am here.
“Please answer.”
I surely don’t think
I have that strength.
“I still love you.”
My heart beats,
my stomach churns.
“You were the best
thing that ever
happened to me.”
Funny,
I used to think the same
about you.
“Why aren't you answering?”
“Because for 7 months;
I waited.
You tore me apart,
it felt like I was drowning.
You didn't even look back.
Not once.
How can I just forget that?”
I hit send.
“I’m sorry…”
“I’m sorry too.”*
Except this time,
I don’t hit send.

One moment, you’ll start to realize
how much their touch could melt your skin,

and how their words bled
with empty promises

but could fill your soul,
starving for security, trying to fix the cracks.

And there will be agony,
but you’ll mistake it all for love.

One moment you’ll see yourself in their eyes—
lifeless—buried in tragedies, unable to escape

and there, you’ll stay.
Not in their life, but in their eyes,

burning with catastrophe;
there will be flames, devouring your insides

and you will mistake gasoline for your patience

"Oh hi, good moments and happy feelings"

"Not today man"