As I am scrolling through the messages on my phone, I suddenly stop and then I sigh. I see your name. I know that the moment I clicked our conversation, I know I will be damned. I know that I will smile. I know that everything will be in there -- all of the words exchanged. All of the bad and good words. Our entire story in one conversation. I can't delete it. I just can't. Somehow, these messages remind me of how we used to be. These messages are are the proofs that we can be more, that we are almost there. I can't just erase all of it. It is like my copy of our story, a story that it is still in the process of editing.
YOU ARE READING
Secrets I Whisper to the Stars at Night
PoetryThe stars, my anchor and friend Keeping my secrets as I spill them Into the night sky Together with the moon, They keep me company.
