Unsent

 

Chat window open, encircled face glows golden.

Neon words bounce in a blur from fingertips

that type too much. A rushing 12-page essay

on how she sits in your mind - so beautiful and kind.

How you think of her as you drift to sleep,

wishing she would notice you, or message,

or wave, or say hi, or even just smile your way.

Put childish toys away. She won't wish to hear

what you say. Delete the words, fade into obscurity.

 

Chat window open, his face beams golden.

That smile... Dots... Dots... like the irises

of his blue eyes, she so wants to gaze into.

Panic in her own eyes. Is it a full stop, or the

first connection of the lines?

 

Delete. Scrapping every beat

of a heart that can't reach out.

She'd be scraping the bottom

of the barrel to want to see me.

She is pretty and funny,

whilst I resemble a runny, flumpy

marshmallow sat beside a fire too long.

Her smile makes my stomach feel sunny.

When I think of summer glades,

it's her I wish to lay beside,

making daisy chains with our thoughts,

love flowing in dandelion seeds

as the stars erupt.

Just a crush you preach to yourself.

 

Silence. She takes a selfie, just to hear the click

Over her thoughts, all extended metaphors

and ocean floors, open seas,

and soft sand beaches... a hand... a touch... a kiss...

Smiles, cute she thinks - a lie in essence,

for inside she feels anything but,

she wants to share his presence.

A feeling. Is she lovesick?

 

Chat window open. The face smiles,

and you sit, a tear dripping onto the phone.

Now your words don't click.

Sensitive. I'm too sensitive.

Why don't I just let it go?

She doesn't even know I exist.

 

I'll message, what do I say?

Hi I like you, would you like to join me for a drink?

We can laugh at the clouds, make origami boats

from our hearts and sail away. What if he laughs

at me? Or deletes my name from his memory?

 

A lengthy message to just say hello.

Delete, rewrite, delete, rewrite, delete, close.

Repeat. Hour after hour. Messages unsent,

thoughts circling, as his mind runs in meadows,

never reaching the destination - a plane always 

circling the runway, until it runs out of fuel 

and crashes along the way.

 

Chat window open.

 

Would you like to meet for a drink?

 

Shit. Shit shit.

 

Dots... Dots...

A week, a month in a second.

A lifetime explodes in your eyes.

You forget to breathe.

 

Yeah.. how about 5?