And here I am, left to pick up the pieces to pretend I wasnt tongue-tied, hopeful for the kiss that wouldnt come.
By
Updated 4 years ago,June 20, 2021
The message blinks white, fades to greyand once again Im left with only memoriesof you, of us, of what you promisedyoud be for mebut you fell shortyou always do, dont you?And here I am, leftto pick up the piecesto pretend I wasnt tongue-tied, hopefulfor the kiss that wouldnt come.I never feltso high and so low with one person,could never wrap my head around the emotionenigmatic and wild, like I was dreamingwas that all we were?
Just dizzy,floating like clouds through what we claimed was love?You send me fragments,choppy texts with encrypted messages.I read them over and over before I fall asleepwondering what you meant in lackof punctuation, in the empty spaceswhy is there always emptinesswhen it comes to you?You send me pictures with no captions,a photo that makes you laugh, reminds you of meand here I am, counting cracks on my ceiling,trying to remember what I could have possibly meantto a man who could never outright tell me he needed me.A man who could never board that plane, take that flight,drive with the tank on empty, reckless, desperateto hold me in his arms just one more time.And so we do this thing we dotext messages through cyber space, impersonalwithdrawn.
Ethan Ou
You waiting for an answerand my screen flashing white.And maybe this is how were supposed to end.My screen blinking in the darkness of my bedroom,but this time I dont reply.
