I wake with a quiet ache,
scrolling to our thread,
your name still there,
but silent.
Still, I send a message,
something small,
as if it might stir you
through the silence.
I picture your reply,
how you'd type and pause,
then send a heart,
or something silly,
just to make me smile.
Late nights were our ritual,
voice notes at 2 AM,
arguing over latest movies,
sharing dreams,
too fragile to say out loud,
except with each other.
The world spun with just us in it,
so selfish,
we never needed another.
We joked that anyone else
would steal our thunder,
dim the glow we found
in each other’s laughter
Days pass like drifting leaves.
I tell myself you're busy,
or resting,
or just forgot to reply.
And then,
the words I never wanted to hear,
you’re gone.
Gone,
while I was still waiting
for the next story,
the next laugh,
the next moment
with you.
Now our memories
live in unread messages,
and I’m still here,
talking to the past,
hoping it hears me.
Written by Micko.
All rights reserved.
30.April.2025.©️
The new dawn 222.
