With every "Miss you," I felt a stab!

 Dear xxx,

Today, while I was clearing out my emails. I accidentally came upon our old conversation. You know when we thought it would be cool, as well as silly, to chat through emails. There were a total of 27 msgs. And the subject read, "Did you ever imagine what it would be like to chat through emails?" so silly I was, right?

I started to read through them but couldn't go past the 15th. It was a long mail you have sent me as a reply to my previous 5 short mails. The moment I read the endearment you used for me, I felt a kind of whirly feeling in my stomach. I don't know how to describe it, but it wasn't a happy one for sure. 

With every "Miss you," I felt a stab. With every taunt, tease, and question, I found myself smiling and tearing up at the same time. And even laughing at your futile attempts of being dramatic(why don't you just accept that you can't be filmy and dramatic. Just leave that to me.)

As I scroll through, I see 'love' at the end of every message. And the last one read a promise from me to you, of how we will meet soon.

But that couldn't be it

so I scroll and scroll,

and I find a few more

one of me wishing you a happy birthday

followed by a heart

and another of you

that you are so sorry we have to stay apart

and the final two

first me, then you

where I like a coward,

said goodbye on a mail,

you- just a broken heart emoji

and as always said, "Agreed."

As I close the msgs and stare at your name

written in tiny letters, but they feel so heavy

I try to picture your face

your eyes, your ears

your smile, but it always ends up in tears.

The cursor glides through the symbols

and a small delete pops up.

I don't let myself wander on it

even for a little bit,

my mind has been rational lately,

and I wasn't ready to let you go.

Just yet.

I go back and back and back and back,

you still remain on the screen.

How many tabs will I have to close

when finally you'll be nowhere to be seen.

I drop my head back on the chair,

look at the ceiling, and sigh.

First, it was the albums and the notes,

now even the mails want me to cry.