You texted first,
lit up my phone, made me believe you broke the curse.
I started dressing for your replies,
memorized all your words,
analyzed every “hi,”
made you feel so heard.

Now your messages come in lowercase
punctual, polite.
You said you want me close,
but no message is in sight.

I check your socials like a screen,
refreshing hope with every scroll.
Afraid you’re typing in between
some other thread that makes you whole.

Maybe I should fall for someone else.
Maybe that would patch the glitch.
I could text a few guys,
but none of them type the way you did
half-sarcastic, half-sweet,
the other half to make me complete.