Left on Read

Let me down gently why don’t you,

I’m sick of being built up

and then for it all to fall through.

Gently is never as gentle as you think;

that apologetic tone with the kind words 

are enough to make a big ship sink.

And so

I mourn for the heart 

and for what it never had to start.

I mourn for what it thought could have been.

It’s patiently waiting at the window, 

sad little heart, naive quite so

don’t you realise he’s there, accompanied, looking in…

he’s not coming.

You’re just seen.


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