i’ve been silent for the past few weeks
i haven’t talked to anybody
not having an outlet kills me
but you’d say i’m still breathing
times change and so have you
but you know what?
it hurts harder than you think it does.
you maybe even don’t think
at all
and what a vapid woman am i
i look back to the last day we conversed
i haven’t replied to your last two texts yet
witty replies itch at my mind
yet i refrain from texting back
i need not remember someone telling me
‘learn to leave the table
when you’re no longer being served’
i’m left hanging halfway
i keep checking my notifications
look forward to the sound of an incoming text
i look at the screen hopefully now
read our last texts to sate myself somehow
the date of our last text is all i can bring myself to see
two thousand twenty one
may twenty three
you laughed hard at the threadbare jokes i cracked
you shared your condolences over my brother’s dead ma
you answered my questions with an ‘idk’
i swipe on the screen to the beginning of the year
when things were different
moments when i didn’t send fifteen texts
and you replied to unasked questions
i remember my mom saying
everytime you forgive him for any mistake made
you’ll fall
he’ll rise
you’ll feel dependent
he’ll start to fly
sink
float
don't give him the benefit of the doubt
he'll feel your significance
love you a little harder
look at us now
we descended to texts you read-zoned
and later to ones you wouldn’t open
and further to the questions i asked and you left me unanswered
that’s right, darling
you’re reading it exactly as it is
‘you left’
i can’t accuse you
it’s normal to you
don’t worry
i think it’s very similar in my case
normal
(you should see me snorting in sarcasm)
‘normal’
to be honest
i thought our story would be different
but it turns out to be the same
our friendship was actually
one of the threadbare cliches i cracked
and i bet you’re laughing over that right now
so busy laughing
that you’ve forgotten
you’ve forgotten
you’ve let go
i look back
this ain’t as new as you think, okay?
i’ve been through it
i’ll meet someone new
they’ll be like you
laugh at the threadbare cliche in our friendship too
forget
and what actually hurts
is that
it happens over texts
which weren’t sent.
~d.s.
YOU ARE READING
Into The Black Hole
PoetrySometimes, pain becomes peace. Eureka! He's an oxymoron.It's been almost over eleven months; six months when it got way too critical, but I've been evolving and growing up out of it. It means much less to me now, and again, it keeps reminding me th...
