13 new messages

"You have 13 unread messages"

Her phone kept reminding, every now and then

"Are you angry? Are you okay? What happened?"
And a few other questions of desperation

Saw, read and left with blue ticks. Unanswered.

Gathered over the years, a montage of memories

A few kinkles, kerchiefs with a lingering waft
And ear-worms that used to bring a rush of emotions,
now simply skipped on the playlist

Pictures lost in shared folders, only to be reminded
By Google every once in a while

Some fancy chocolate wrappers,
And cliché valentine's cards

A thing for old movies and isolated art galleries,
Photographs of abandoned city nooks and strangers in galleries

Because he was into arts and stuff, and she onto him

An October day that became an October night
And promises broken over tequila shots and cheap wine

Some thriving insecurities and a few wounds that's become a scar

Of things she's gathered from old lovers,
Carefully preserved in a montage of memories

Could this be the worst?

Whole lot of baggage, triggered simply by a text.

So she simply let 13 of those messages hang,
Until after a few days when the emotions finally die

And to those abandoned text out of courtesy and some self imposed obligation,
She simply said,
"Angry? Who me? Come on. I was just busy."