Unsent Messages

Sometimes I still think about calling you. About picking up the phone and typing your number on the keypad digit by digit. I know that we never worked. We were like two ticking clocks moving faster and faster until they’re no longer ticking in time. I sometimes wish I could turn back the clocks. But not all the time. Hidden behind the positive memories of you there’s sharp harsh moments like nails sticking out of a piece of wood. Like blood trickling from the ceiling above you in a horror movie. I still think about what I did in hot flashes of embarrassment. The clocks got out of sync. Even now I look at pictures of you with a grin, but if I linger too long on your memory the cracks start to show. Sometimes I start to blame myself for the cracks. But then I remember what she told me that night sitting by the fire. The flames illuminated her face as she spoke telling me about what you did. I wanted to tear down your memory that night. To take away everything good about you that i remembered and shove it deep into those cracks. I catch myself thinking about your smile sometimes but then the scene contorts and I see her face by the fire. Flickering and flickering until my face is red hot again. Not with embarrassment this time, but burning hollow rage I can feel deep in the bottom of my stomach. I wonder if you know that’s why I didn't want to talk to you when you picked up the phone and typed out my number digit by digit. Deep down I wanted to hear your voice. Smooth and comforting reminding me of a person who I trusted with the deepest parts of my life. But I don’t know if you were ever actually that person. I held onto you like a rope in a blizzard and created this image of a friend you never were. When I met you the world was cracking and crumbling under my feet so I took you and built up this perfect person to be there. And for a while you played that role but when you stopped I kept pretending. I know you think of me and what happened sometimes. I do think of you. I wish I could erase your memory from my brain but I don’t know if I would’ve survived the blizzard without you as my rope. But I’m a different person now then I was. I have solid ground under my feet. You were someone I needed , then someone who hurt me, and now you’re someone I want to forget. So I’m erasing your number digit by digit from my memory so I won’t think about picking up the phone to call you ever again. And I think you should do the same.