Pic credit : Google

The crumpled sheet of paper beneath my bed, the message in my drafts the words unsaid.

All of them are so special, the uncertainty they hold, plus endless speculation.

I can’t help but think of your reaction, would you have rejected or reciprocated my affection?

The dots following a sentence are not useless afterall…. words are waiting at the tip of my pen, I’m not letting them fall.

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