I know your signs

I know your signs.

I know them by heart.

They scream the words you would not say, even now, after all these years.

I make believe that I know what is hiding between the lines, fooling myself that 7 years have made me an expert of your unspoken.

Your capital sentences – you’re typing on your phone, and it grows the first letter of each line for you. Your auto-correct and I have become besties and I laugh at your multiplying mis-spellings.

Your many full stops marching like an army across my screen – you’re in a bad place, wishing the earth would swallow you whole to escape the rat race. The short sentences bite into me, even when I know at times, I am not behind them – but what is the solace in knowing that the world pissed you off, and not me?

But I know most of all… those ellipses.

They lurk in the shadows,

always at the ready

to jump in

and mask the words that cannot be said…

…that would not be said.

Sometimes, because, let’s face it, what use are words when we are talking about us?

And sometimes, because you are holding back other truths, thoughts, hurts.

Trying to protect me, you say.

And I keep telling you each and every day, I do not need protecting. Most of the time, I actually mean it.

For I’d rather go down in a blaze of your passive aggressive ellipses than wither in your silence. Your silence… I know that the best. It’s the worst; our last words echoing around in my never-resting mind, as I keep them on repeat, over analysing every comma and space.

And then, a daybreak – a capital sentence, a full stop – “Good afternoon.”

Sometimes you even add “sweets”.

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