Dear Beloved,

Time has moved on and yet I still do not see that you ever had a heart. You never had a pulse, and showed no signs of living, except the occasional glance at me. I watched from afar, watching the expressionless mouth move uncertainly in my direction, as if to scowl, or make a snide remark. The hatred drilled into me. Your formerly glazed over eyes, were sparkling, as if delighted by this emotion. To love and the emotion to be returned was hatred. I could feel my skin go cold, and my heart beating slower. I was dying inside, your hatred crushing me. I knew that I would live again, unlike you. Your skin was pale and cold, with a purplish- blue tinge. Only from a misplacement of the hand; an accidental movement, that I know this. Can I say I have never loved, for my feelings were only returned by a corpse? I could hear no response to my burning questions, which have cooled with your unrequited love. The best I could say is that the cruelness in your brain had somehow softened , because of my presence.



The letter begs to be sent.

The cursor hovers over the Send button.

To send or to be deleted, that is the true question.

The twitch in your finger tells you to click.

You stare at the cold, pale index finger and click.

The mistake is enormous, but you don't realize ,

seeing that you're a heartless being.

She's just an e-mail you sent away.

On the other side, the emotions, finally let loose.

Tears land on the keyboard, and fists pound the keys.

Color returns to a face.

The pink fleshy color, that was apparent at birth,

then hidden, returns.

I'm just an e-mail that he didn't mean to send.