A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

Send.

You can send messages to yourself in WhatsApp.
I believe people use this function for reminders,
saving useful information, but I send myself
the messages I wish I could send to you.
Not all of them. Some I filter at the level of the brain.
But many I type, angry thumbs tapping glass:

Did you ever love me? Send.

Is your intention to shatter me beyond all repair? Send.

I loved you, damn it, with every atom of my being. Send.

I deserve better. Send.

I wonder if you’ll ever understand what you lost. Send.

I hate you, you know. I fucking hate you. You know how serious that is, right? You know me well enough to know that I don’t do hate. You’ve known me long enough to know I seek the smallest specks of evidence that not all is lost, that intentions weren’t all evil. But with you? I can’t find any. And now, I hate. Send.

Fucking prick, I’m sick of crying over you. Send.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. Send.