he held his hand
on the small of my back
but his eyes were on my sister

empty mailbox, empty inbox
yet the phone is filled to the brim.
this house is drained to silence,
and yet silence sings her hymn .
my heart lies beating and red,
yet cold in it’s black tomb.
mine is the only heart here,
yet my ghosts hearts fill the room.

I scream out into the air,
and my own voice to me does cry.
“is anyone out there?!” I ask the world,
“is anyone out there?!” is the reply.

why does it still hurt to know
that we both have wiped the slate clean
deleted the texts
forgotten what was said on the phone calls
and moved on

dear best friend,
I am so sorry,
but you were the reason I set my phone to ‘airplane mode’ last night.

the pain sears on like a hot iron against a raw heart.
it’s been exactly two months and the torment of knowing what was left behind, as well as not knowing what is ahead doesn’t cease.
bitterness is still my constant companion, and here I sit in the street that meant “home”, welcoming bitterness, for she is the only one who seems to understand.

what if I just
put my phone down for the night?
what if I just set my alarm and put my phone next to my bed
and brushed my teeth without a video playing?
without scrolling. without music. without a distraction.
what if I just looked at the real room that’s in front of me?
I have a small blanket acting as a curtain over my window, and from behind it I can hear the rustling of leaves in the autumn wind. it’s autumn. it’s October. it’s my favorite season. I don’t think about things like that when I’m desperately trying to distract myself with a complication or vlog or playlist.
I am now so curious. I used to go my every waking hour without this phone in my hand - and now I don’t want to be without it.
I can’t even do a load of laundry without trying to find a video to watch first.
but what if I were to go without it?
can I even imagine the colors I would see? the sounds I would hear? the things I would notice?
it’s such a beautiful, romantic, captivating world. I have a feeling if I opened myself up to it, it would wrap me in its arms and serve me well. the crickets and wind would lull me to sleep; the rising sun would kiss me good morning. The coolness of the early hours would make my skin tingle, and the walls of this house might look completely new.
I can imagine all the still moments I would get caught up in, noticing the drip of a faucet, my cat crossing the room, the sway of the porch swing. I might notice my breathing too, or the way my hair falls on my shoulder, or listen to the clearing of my own throat with full attention and intention. reaching out and holding something with two free hands.
what if I did that?

you know that song? everyone has one.
it’s a windy october morning, a winter evening, a silent memory, 2am when I didn’t say it but I wanted to, saying goodbye, frozen Pennsylvania in November, stillness and regret, full of love and intensity and ache and hate, blaming me, blaming him. I can feel this song. I can smell it. I can see it when I close my eyes. you gave me an entire world in this song. how do I miss it and never want to know it again just the same? how did you change an entire year of my life with just one song?