Telegram

Was it something I said?
Just yesterday we were almost
In love and making plans for tomorrow
And I swore our words were woven

Wonderfully

Seamless and

Incessant and

We didn’t stop until you

Fell asleep without a

 

My screen lights up—it’s not you.
What are you doing?
My mind spirals down endless
Possibilities and of all of them
I choose the one that hurts the most

 

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Fiction

She told me how she loved to read,
Yet words were never what she loved;
She loved the places in her head,
Knowing full well they don’t exist.

I never could fathom the way
She made those places come alive.
So real to her, to me surreal—
I tried but never could believe.

Maybe that’s why she couldn’t stay;
She pictured us transcending pages
While I remained in this quatrain—
What love she loved I could not give.