Old Chats
Now, when I read our old chats,
Yes, I still have them,
No, don't tell me to delete them,
I am not ready yet.
So, when I read our old chats,
From any day, of any month,
I find conversations I don't remember,
Because they were so normal,
And like an everyday occurance,
A daily, weekly, monthly, yearly reminder,
Of our existence in each other's life.
So, when I read our old chats,
I love how the conversations flows effortlessly,
But there is certainly a visible effort to keep it going.
Nothing stressful intially,
Because efforts make relations stronger,
And every text was an effort,
Of you and me to make it what it was until it wasn't.
So, when I read our old chats,
I know how it going to end,
The end of this story doesn't change,
But that doesn't mean,
I don't like the story.
That doesn't mean,
It didn't mean something,
The conversations, the efforts, the things we called each other, the internal jokes we had,
The ones I don't remember why we cracked,
Making me feel like a stranger to my own thoughts.
And, when I read our old chats,
Even when I know how it all ends,
There is this strange, little hope in my heart,
That I will find a message waiting,
At the very end of the conversation,
A message that is not mine.
