The Words I Kept

The line went dead. Just static.

And the words I couldn't get out

were suddenly just static, too.

A black rectangle, waiting.

My thumb hovering, a clumsy bird

over the send icon.

It’s easier here,

this cool, impersonal screen.

To admit the weight,

the quiet panic,

the way your voice,

even the silence after,

made the air too thick to breathe.

But it stays, unsent.

A small, sharp stone

in the pocket of the day.