Cycle of Read

Its funny how previously,

Heartbreak could be left with the flame of hope.

A letter sent could get lost in the wind,

Dropped at the wrong place,

Snagged by the hands of time,

Confiscated by those wanting to interfere.

As forlorn as these events seem,

They cannot hold a candle to the pain of today.

There is no holding on to the hope of error,

Wondering if it ever even reached the eyes of the intended.

Now it is an immediate response.

Not long after pressing send it becomes branded.

This brand can be the downfall of a heart.

The initial delivery is a piece of the heart,

Offered up in hopes of a reciprocating piece.

No it is not this one that causes catastrophe.

No, it is the simple four-letter word that seems so innocent.

When it appears it is an instant rush of endorphins,

Waiting on bated breath for the gift that seems inevitable.

Seconds turn to minutes which then turn to hours,

The brand stays as if to mock the hope previously held.

It is at this point when the cutting feeling begins to set in.

The flame of hope flickers against the chill creeping in.

Panic stricken the mind,

Wondering where it went wrong,

What had been said that caused this?

Messages are read, reread, and read again.

Small droplets turn into streaks as tears rush out.

Pathetic as it feels,

There is no way to stop the feeling.

A single beep breaks through the haze of feeling.

The tears dry up as if they were never there,

The smoking wick inside ignites a small spark.

The name that brightens up the now dark room illuminates the soul,

The wick ignites entirely into a blazing inferno.

Even though days passed of heartbreaking silence,

The sight of your name erases it all.

Even though the doubt seeps in the corners,

Ignorance is truly a bliss that becomes a mantra.

You’ve made a true mess inside of my head,

But I guess that’s what happens in the cycle of being left on read.