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harun-shukriPoems
It began with a ding— my phone’s sharp summons. Eyes darted, scanning lines, letters stitching into words. Word by word, line after line, spaces and punctuation weaving a fragile thread. My restless eyes raced, mind paced, heart pounded— until the final line left me suspended. I read her message once— never twice. Fear freezes my fingers, as if rereading would unravel her words into rejection. A conundrum: joy shadowed by sorrow, satisfaction laced with dread, or escape from love’s long-festering ache. I never looked again. Never deleted. Her text lives in my pocket, each word a fragile relic, cradled close, etched into my pulse.
0
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 4:19 PM UTC
Her Text Message
It began with a ding— my phone’s sharp summons. Eyes darted, scanning lines, letters stitching into words. Word by word, line after line, spaces and punctuation weaving a fragile thread. My restless eyes raced, mind paced, heart pounded— until the final line left me suspended. I read her message once— never twice. Fear freezes my fingers, as if rereading would unravel her words into rejection. A conundrum: joy shadowed by sorrow, satisfaction laced with dread, or escape from love’s long-festering ache. I never looked again. Never deleted. Her text lives in my pocket, each word a fragile relic, cradled close, etched into my pulse.
Written by
harun-shukri
M
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 4:19 PM UTC
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