Delete

It is an extremely painful process to start with by deleting all the messages he sent one by one. From how he confessed that he miss me, how we felt so comfortable hanging out with each other, how we start to have mutual liking, how he said that he enjoyed every moment with me, call me his gal, named me his wife wife, tells me that he will always fill my heart with him (which he really did), how much he misses me and cant wait to see me again, how he look forward to the morning calls I gave, those appreciation when I travel all the way down just to sing with him, how much he wishes to hug me to sleep . . . all these ended up and changes into loathe when he snapped his finger and chooses to end it . . and it is agony on my ends to pick up the bit and pieces of pain he left. I have to transverse that amount of love and misses to eventually nothing when I see the word deleted from the screen of my cell phone. My heart is aching furiously for every deleted message. There is nothing I can do to stop my tears. I finally stopped and I am sorry that I just couldn't do it anymore.