Limbo of The Unread

It is always a thrill to receive new writings from our dear Amna Almadani and she is now back with a brand new piece for our letters theme titled “Limbo of The Unread”

Bear with me,

For this is my first written letter to you.

Do not wait for any commencing formality that starts with the word “Dear”,

For between us it will not do.

This letter has already started to venture on its own,

And so there is nothing left I can do,

To stop my fingertips from forming the words

I kept for so long from you.


Do you remember?

When in the first days,

I found myself filling your teacup just till it reached half its glass.

I’d halt before I immediately continue filling it entirely,

The way you never liked.


Do you see?

How everyone would avoid sitting in your spot

And there would be that added second of hesitation,

Till I draw your chair back and sit there unabashed.


Did you feel?

When my cold hand found yours,

Though you were begging for warmth.

How my sharp long nails dug into your palm,

Though you were yearning for comfort.

Right then, your eyes grasped mine,

But you didn’t see me.


Did it hurt?

When the necklace you gave me, left my neck.


Did you listen?

When sometimes,

I didn’t accompany mercy after your name.


Because I remember,

Whether through a photo, a gift or a scent.

Memory, that insensitive guest that refuses to leave,

Until it consumes all that it can and take over your senses.

It keeps bringing you back.


Because I can see,

How no one had the heart to take your place.

They did not want you to be erased,

But I’d rather have your place, than bear see it empty;

I had to make you stay.


Because I felt,

The way your hands relentlessly

Clutched my cold ones, though it normally made you flinch.

I wished your hands knew me,

In spite of your distant eyes.

And Against all the odds of the beeping machine beside you;

I had to make you stay.


Because I hurt,

When your golden butterfly embraced me.

Not that it caused me any discomfort,

For if it was a chain I would still gladly wear it on my neck.

But it was what you gave me last,

And when gone it meant you were here still

And so I had to make you stay.


Because I can listen,

To the erratic beating of my heart,

How it lurches when I hear that dreaded compassionate phrase.

I’m sorry I didn’t accompany mercy after your name,

My tongue was too selfish to let you go;

I had to make you stay.


I know that feelings come and go,

And that my mourning will wither.

But no matter how many seasons pass,

My memories of you will forever linger.


I also know this letter will never meet your warm hands,

But some words don’t have to be sent

In order to be delivered.

Let these sentences be said,

Let them be caught in a limbo

Of all of what’s unread.


Just know I do not regret concealing all these words from you,

Instead of sharing them while you were still here.

For back then I already had you;

I was busy being alive with you

And I had no reason to make you stay.


Author: Amna Almadani 


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