Rain, Rain, Go Away

It’s raining.
On the outside.
And on the inside.
It’s been over 28 hours since we’ve talked.
5 hours and 23 minutes since my note.
I thought you were just my friend, I had even convinced myself of it,
so why is it raining?
My pocket vibrates.
Is it you?
Instantly, my tears cease as though they were cued.
My breath shortens.
I begin to wonder; what do I say?
Are the words I’m sorry good enough?
If I say the truth, that I’m sorry, would you forgive me?
The word sorry seems so small compared to what I did to us.
Is it too late?
Have I lost you forever?
Did I ruin any chance of still being friends?
It shakes again, this time a reminder that a message is waiting for me.
My hands begin to sweat bullets.
My breath becomes short.
My feet become restless, and it’s not because I’m cold.
“God give me the words to say and the strength to bear it.”
I press the “view” option.
I close my eyes with hope
and open to see…
Alas!
A stupid forward…
I throw my phone against the wall,
watching it shatter in two,
and I curl back into my bed.
It begins to rain inside again,
as I realize my phone wasn’t the only thing that broke tonight.