I am scared.
Of the same patterns being repeated again,
Of talking to someone and waiting for their replies,
I don't mind the wait,
I mind those uncertain times of wait,
When it's been a minute, an hour, two hours, twelve hours, twenty four hours, two days, a week ago, 27 days, a month ago, 45 days, 50 days, two months, 75 day, three months, six months, a year ago, more than a year ago,
And no reply arrives.
Your phone died?
No, you must have lost the charger?
Or the phone? You must have lost the phone.
Maybe you logged off and forgot your password,
But I can see your stories,
And you are seeing mine too.
I am getting scared, now.
My message must have been buried somewhere with others,
But it says you saw it,
You saw it, right?
This, is, what, I am scared of,
No, don't call it ghosting,
Even ghosts try to communicate.
And don't say,
It was nothing,
When you had something to say everyday.
So, I'm scared,
Of this silence that communication brings,
And this is not an awkward one,
This is the hurting one,
I am scared of this hurt,
I am scared of being hurt again,
I am scared of picking all the broken pieces all over again,
I am scared that I wouldn't be able to pick them all up again,
Them being so unceremoniously and unbashedly crushed,
With all my hope,
And do you even know,
How rare that hope is?
You gave it to me once,
And you were rude enough to take it back with you.
So, now, I'm scared.
Don't do that to me, please.
Don't hurt me with the silence,
Don't hurt me with your ghosts.
And don't hurt me with your hope.