She must’ve heard my voice crack
the first time we spoke— looking back,
my mind clock ticks slow; rewinding moments
like they mean more the second time shown.
Tasked with watching my thoughts— maybe
a chronicle of us; feelings don’t copy… still,
I paste my heart into your hands— select all,
delete… retype it all again.
“You’re my type,” she said— and suddenly
I type with intent; less error, more focus—
every word felt spent and sent with purpose.
Then I compared you to a rising flower—
you, a rose on your own terms, a picture I revisit,
again and again, pulling more from the frame;
A Mona Lisa in motion: beauty I study,
but never fully name. I’ve grown accustomed
to my feelings, custom-built walls for my heart;
but you turned this custom into a customer—
and I bought in your beauty... every part.
A game I didn’t mind losing, investing in all
your worth; and somehow…it was worth
the voice I chose to respond with first.
May 3
May 3, 2026 at 3:54 PM UTC
She must’ve heard my voice crack
the first time we spoke— looking back,
my mind clock ticks slow; rewinding moments
like they mean more the second time shown.
Tasked with watching my thoughts— maybe
a chronicle of us; feelings don’t copy… still,
I paste my heart into your hands— select all,
delete… retype it all again.
“You’re my type,” she said— and suddenly
I type with intent; less error, more focus—
every word felt spent and sent with purpose.
Then I compared you to a rising flower—
you, a rose on your own terms, a picture I revisit,
again and again, pulling more from the frame;
A Mona Lisa in motion: beauty I study,
but never fully name. I’ve grown accustomed
to my feelings, custom-built walls for my heart;
but you turned this custom into a customer—
and I bought in your beauty... every part.
A game I didn’t mind losing, investing in all
your worth; and somehow…it was worth
the voice I chose to respond with first.
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