Message to him

I stare at the screen like it owes me something,

Each minute a question, each hour a wound.

Did I say too much, or not enough?

The typing dots flicker—then vanish too soon.

I resist the urge to throw my phone out the window,

Yet I can’t bear to pull my eyes away from the screen.

Read, yet not responding.

I clutch my phone as if its my lifeline,

Eyes boring into the screen, pleading for it to give me an answer.

Is he gaslighting me?

Is he ignoring me?

Vines twirl around my ribs lazily,

constricting and releasing my chest, playing with my heart.

The caterpillars in my stomach have become butterflies,

Tickling my insides persistently.

Do I want to vomit? Probably.

Do I want to scream into my pillow? Definitely.

Typing dots appear, constricting my chest to the point of suffocation.

I like you too.