friday, 11 PM
“my phone stayed dark tonight
and i let it.
no name lit up the ceiling.
no draft i deleted twice.
no rehearsing of a sentence
for someone
who stopped listening
a long time ago.
just the fan turning,
the tea going cold
because i forgot it,
and forgetting it
felt like a small kind of freedom.
i used to mistake silence
for a door about to close.
tonight it’s only a room
with the lights low,
and i’m sitting in it
like it’s mine.
not healed.
not over it.
just not waiting
for the buzz
to tell me i’m still here.”