I watched the little
typing…
bubble
like it was a heartbeat.
Three dots.
Pause.
Three dots again.
I thought that meant something.
I thought it meant
me.
You said goodnight
and I held it close,
folded it carefully
like a note passed in class.
Meanwhile
your phone lit up again
for someone else.
I didn’t know
I was sharing you
with another screen,
another set of inside jokes,
another name you smiled at
in the dark.
You told me you were tired.
But you were still awake.
Just not with me.
And I replay it now —
every “I miss you,”
every “you’re the only one I talk to like this.”
How easy it must’ve been
to copy and paste affection.
How simple
to make me feel singular
when I was just
one tab open.
I was building a future
out of notifications.
Out of late-night confessions
and songs you said reminded you of me.
I wonder
if they reminded you of her too.
The worst part isn’t that you chose someone else.
It’s that you let me believe
I was chosen.
I kept refreshing the chat
like if I waited long enough
the truth would buffer differently.
But it didn’t.
It just stayed there —
read.
delivered.
ignored.
And somewhere
between the silence
and the glow of your screen,
I realized
I was never the only one
watching those three little dots
and hoping
they meant love.
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 9:17 PM UTC
I watched the little
typing…
bubble
like it was a heartbeat.
Three dots.
Pause.
Three dots again.
I thought that meant something.
I thought it meant
me.
You said goodnight
and I held it close,
folded it carefully
like a note passed in class.
Meanwhile
your phone lit up again
for someone else.
I didn’t know
I was sharing you
with another screen,
another set of inside jokes,
another name you smiled at
in the dark.
You told me you were tired.
But you were still awake.
Just not with me.
And I replay it now —
every “I miss you,”
every “you’re the only one I talk to like this.”
How easy it must’ve been
to copy and paste affection.
How simple
to make me feel singular
when I was just
one tab open.
I was building a future
out of notifications.
Out of late-night confessions
and songs you said reminded you of me.
I wonder
if they reminded you of her too.
The worst part isn’t that you chose someone else.
It’s that you let me believe
I was chosen.
I kept refreshing the chat
like if I waited long enough
the truth would buffer differently.
But it didn’t.
It just stayed there —
read.
delivered.
ignored.
And somewhere
between the silence
and the glow of your screen,
I realized
I was never the only one
watching those three little dots
and hoping
they meant love.
When you think you talking to someone meanwhile their talking to someone else..
