the last text you ever sent to me was
can you come back
at the time, my response, which was typed with a fluttering heart and a shaky breath was
i'm outside, gimme 2
willingly, i went back inside to you and found you there, almost blending in with the walls, and you said
i regret what i just did.
i had known before you said it. your stupidly simple four word message had told me everything and anything i needed to know. but to hear it spoken, announced to the universe and yet only to me, was a deeper cut than i was willing to bandage.
i'm okay now. my cuts have healed. i'm eating again. my hands don't shake anymore. my scars remain as reminders, warnings, memories.
the last text you ever sent to me was
can you come back
today, my answer is
no.
YOU ARE READING
pencil shavings
Poetrythe thoughts i should throw out like pencil shavings but have instead decided to throw into the universe.
