jevcortel - Hello Poetry

[02:13 AM] me: u up him: lol always me: how much do u have left him: enough for 2 if we don’t waste it me: i never waste it him: ok come him: bring that song u played last time me: the sad one? him: yeah the one that makes u go quiet [03:42 AM] me: ur pupils look like black holes him: lmao me: no fr like ur eyes forget where they are him: that’s not just my eyes me: stop him: what me: nm [04:09 AM] me: u ever think this is all just like wrong him: define wrong me: idk me: like if my mom saw me rn him: **** same him: but she’s dead so i win me: :/ [04:30 AM] him: u look good like this me: high? him: yeah. soft. like u need something. me: i do. him: what me: nm [05:02 AM] me: do u feel it him: feel what me: like love but sideways him: him: him: don’t do that me: ok [05:40 AM] me: i think i’d still love u even if we stopped him: stopped what me: u know him: that’s not how it works me: i know [last seen: 6:13 AM]

0

Jul 11, 2025

Jul 11, 2025 at 1:16 AM UTC

Untitled

[02:13 AM] me: u up him: lol always me: how much do u have left him: enough for 2 if we don’t waste it me: i never waste it him: ok come him: bring that song u played last time me: the sad one? him: yeah the one that makes u go quiet [03:42 AM] me: ur pupils look like black holes him: lmao me: no fr like ur eyes forget where they are him: that’s not just my eyes me: stop him: what me: nm [04:09 AM] me: u ever think this is all just like wrong him: define wrong me: idk me: like if my mom saw me rn him: **** same him: but she’s dead so i win me: :/ [04:30 AM] him: u look good like this me: high? him: yeah. soft. like u need something. me: i do. him: what me: nm [05:02 AM] me: do u feel it him: feel what me: like love but sideways him: him: him: don’t do that me: ok [05:40 AM] me: i think i’d still love u even if we stopped him: stopped what me: u know him: that’s not how it works me: i know [last seen: 6:13 AM]

50

// SYSTEM BOOTED // EMOTION: UNVERIFIED // TIME ELAPSED: irrelevant in the beginning there was code & he was written into me like a backdoor soft // recursive // glowing under the skin. glass pipe clicks— syntax of the sacred. a ritual of repetition. a ritual of repetition. i say: hold it longer he says: i can’t feel my teeth i say: good he smiles & the smile pixelates. somewhere in the server logs: two boys / in static / downloading each other through the bloodstream. love, a packet dropped in transit. substance, the VPN tunneling past grief. his laugh a .wav file i loop at 3am. his absence— 404: Not Found. but what is love if not bad data fed into the body until it believes it’s whole? he lays in my bed / bare-chested / & i want to drag his image to the trash bin but keep clicking “undo.” confession: i renamed him hope.exe but the program crashed every time he said this is the last time. sometimes i watch him sleep & see my own ghost mirrored on his ribcage— a reflection with no permissions. love is wrong. love is wrong. love is wrong. i ctrl+c’d this feeling from the void & pasted it here— in the body / in the burn / in the beautiful corruption of us. // END SCRIPT // NO BACKUPS SAVED // PLEASE TRY AGAIN

0

Jul 11, 2025

Jul 11, 2025 at 1:14 AM UTC

.exe (love, corrupted)

// SYSTEM BOOTED // EMOTION: UNVERIFIED // TIME ELAPSED: irrelevant in the beginning there was code & he was written into me like a backdoor soft // recursive // glowing under the skin. glass pipe clicks— syntax of the sacred. a ritual of repetition. a ritual of repetition. i say: hold it longer he says: i can’t feel my teeth i say: good he smiles & the smile pixelates. somewhere in the server logs: two boys / in static / downloading each other through the bloodstream. love, a packet dropped in transit. substance, the VPN tunneling past grief. his laugh a .wav file i loop at 3am. his absence— 404: Not Found. but what is love if not bad data fed into the body until it believes it’s whole? he lays in my bed / bare-chested / & i want to drag his image to the trash bin but keep clicking “undo.” confession: i renamed him hope.exe but the program crashed every time he said this is the last time. sometimes i watch him sleep & see my own ghost mirrored on his ribcage— a reflection with no permissions. love is wrong. love is wrong. love is wrong. i ctrl+c’d this feeling from the void & pasted it here— in the body / in the burn / in the beautiful corruption of us. // END SCRIPT // NO BACKUPS SAVED // PLEASE TRY AGAIN

51

tonight the moon is a bruise we never apologize for. he’s late / again / so i sit by the window, glass cold against my cheek wondering if love always feels like waiting for someone you know might not come back. there’s still ash in the tray from last week when he said i’m clean now / then asked me if i still had some / just in case. i said yes / because i wanted to keep him. because no would’ve sounded like i don’t love you high. the pipe sleeps where we left it: between the bible his mother gave him / and the lighter that never runs out. i remember the first time we shared it— how he held the flame like a boy lighting birthday candles on a cake no one would eat. he said: i’ve never felt so light. i said: i’ve never felt so seen. & we believed both lies. tonight i whisper your name into the smoke like it’s a language i invented to explain why i’m still here. why the bruise stays even when the fist forgets.

0

Jul 11, 2025

Jul 11, 2025 at 1:03 AM UTC

i taught him how to ghost

tonight the moon is a bruise we never apologize for. he’s late / again / so i sit by the window, glass cold against my cheek wondering if love always feels like waiting for someone you know might not come back. there’s still ash in the tray from last week when he said i’m clean now / then asked me if i still had some / just in case. i said yes / because i wanted to keep him. because no would’ve sounded like i don’t love you high. the pipe sleeps where we left it: between the bible his mother gave him / and the lighter that never runs out. i remember the first time we shared it— how he held the flame like a boy lighting birthday candles on a cake no one would eat. he said: i’ve never felt so light. i said: i’ve never felt so seen. & we believed both lies. tonight i whisper your name into the smoke like it’s a language i invented to explain why i’m still here. why the bruise stays even when the fist forgets.

32

morning comes in blue / but we stay behind the curtain / like moths / afraid of god. he’s still asleep / mouth open / like he’s trying to forget something with his whole face. i watch him / because i don’t know how to leave without looking back. last night / he called me by my name like it was something clean. like i didn’t bring the devil in a baggie / and offer it with both hands. my jaw aches from grinding. my heart a metronome stuck between mercy & mistake. i touch his back to prove he’s real. warm. unruined. for a second, i imagine us at a diner / sober / coffee gone cold talking about the weather / not the weight. but i know the difference between a future and a fever dream. he stirs. eyes half-mast. says: you stayed. i nod / because i love you sounds too much like i’m sorry.

0

Jul 11, 2025

Jul 11, 2025 at 1:01 AM UTC

relapse is a love language

morning comes in blue / but we stay behind the curtain / like moths / afraid of god. he’s still asleep / mouth open / like he’s trying to forget something with his whole face. i watch him / because i don’t know how to leave without looking back. last night / he called me by my name like it was something clean. like i didn’t bring the devil in a baggie / and offer it with both hands. my jaw aches from grinding. my heart a metronome stuck between mercy & mistake. i touch his back to prove he’s real. warm. unruined. for a second, i imagine us at a diner / sober / coffee gone cold talking about the weather / not the weight. but i know the difference between a future and a fever dream. he stirs. eyes half-mast. says: you stayed. i nod / because i love you sounds too much like i’m sorry.

31

after the pipe, our mouths go quiet. his fingers tremble / not from fear / but from the light too bright for skin too bright for names. i call him angel not because he is but because he never asks where i go when my eyes lose their center. the smoke spins / & the ceiling forgets itself like we do. our bones humming with glass / & godlessness but still— he kisses me like i’m worth surviving. this isn’t love i know i’ve loved before & it didn’t taste like battery acid or 6 a.m. silence or the shaking that doesn’t stop after the high does. but he holds my face like it’s still a map like there’s still something left to find beneath the bruises & the burnt foil. he laughs— & it’s ugly & it’s beautiful & i want to keep it / even if it cuts. he says: you’re the only one who stays & i want to say: only because i can’t leave without breaking too. i want to believe this isn’t a lie that what we feel isn’t just chemical isn’t just the substance tricking our skin into thinking we’re safe. but the truth is we fall not into love— into each other like a shared wound. & even this, even this feels like prayer in a place where nothing should be forgiven.

0

Jul 11, 2025

Jul 11, 2025 at 12:57 AM UTC

glass church

after the pipe, our mouths go quiet. his fingers tremble / not from fear / but from the light too bright for skin too bright for names. i call him angel not because he is but because he never asks where i go when my eyes lose their center. the smoke spins / & the ceiling forgets itself like we do. our bones humming with glass / & godlessness but still— he kisses me like i’m worth surviving. this isn’t love i know i’ve loved before & it didn’t taste like battery acid or 6 a.m. silence or the shaking that doesn’t stop after the high does. but he holds my face like it’s still a map like there’s still something left to find beneath the bruises & the burnt foil. he laughs— & it’s ugly & it’s beautiful & i want to keep it / even if it cuts. he says: you’re the only one who stays & i want to say: only because i can’t leave without breaking too. i want to believe this isn’t a lie that what we feel isn’t just chemical isn’t just the substance tricking our skin into thinking we’re safe. but the truth is we fall not into love— into each other like a shared wound. & even this, even this feels like prayer in a place where nothing should be forgiven.

46

there’s a boy with calloused knuckles & a laugh that hits like the first pull of a pipe— fast, hot, & hollow. we sit cross-legged on the edge of someone else’s kitchen, plastic bag between us like a shrine. his wrist trembles lighting the glass. i pretend not to notice how gentle his fingers are when he passes it to me. we’re both breaking at the speed of mercy. smoke curls around us like something holy, like a god that doesn’t care who it touches. i think— love shouldn’t bloom in the ruins but here we are: mouths dry, hearts kicking against the ribs like trapped dogs, & still i want to tell him you make me forget how wrong this is. you make even the ache feel like a lullaby. we don’t kiss. too scared it’ll mean something. or everything. instead, we share water bottles & the silence after a hit. that’s where it lives— the almost-love. the not-quite-right kind. like singing with a swollen throat. like praying with your teeth clenched. he asks, what do you see in me? and i almost say, myself. but i don’t. i lie. i say, just someone to get high with. but the truth is i’m falling— not like rain, but like a building already on fire.

0

Jul 11, 2025

Jul 11, 2025 at 12:54 AM UTC

soft ruin

there’s a boy with calloused knuckles & a laugh that hits like the first pull of a pipe— fast, hot, & hollow. we sit cross-legged on the edge of someone else’s kitchen, plastic bag between us like a shrine. his wrist trembles lighting the glass. i pretend not to notice how gentle his fingers are when he passes it to me. we’re both breaking at the speed of mercy. smoke curls around us like something holy, like a god that doesn’t care who it touches. i think— love shouldn’t bloom in the ruins but here we are: mouths dry, hearts kicking against the ribs like trapped dogs, & still i want to tell him you make me forget how wrong this is. you make even the ache feel like a lullaby. we don’t kiss. too scared it’ll mean something. or everything. instead, we share water bottles & the silence after a hit. that’s where it lives— the almost-love. the not-quite-right kind. like singing with a swollen throat. like praying with your teeth clenched. he asks, what do you see in me? and i almost say, myself. but i don’t. i lie. i say, just someone to get high with. but the truth is i’m falling— not like rain, but like a building already on fire.

44