There are messages
that never become words.

Only rehearsals.
Only pauses.

Only fingers hovering above a screen
at 2:14 AM
while the heart tries to negotiate
with consequences.

I rewrote the message
seven times.

In one version
I sounded calm.

In another
I sounded honest.

In another
I sounded like someone
who had already left.

None of them survived the night.

Some truths are not difficult to say
because they are dramatic.

Some truths are difficult to say
because once spoken,
they make return impossible.

So the message stayed here.

Unread.
Unsent.
Still alive.