You still cross my mind while i work.
It happens in the quiet moments,
when my screen glows with unfinished tasks,
and my fingers move mechanically on the keyboard.
Somewhere between one sentence and another, you slip in, like a thought i never invited
but never had the heart to chase away.
I used to work with my phone beside me,
screen always lit, half of my focus on deadlines, the other half waiting for your message.
You'd send something simple,
a "hi," a joke, a question that didn't matter but somehow did.
And it made everything lighter.
Even the heaviest days felt bearable
because i knew, at any second,
you'd be there.
But now, it's different.
My phone stays still,
cold, silent.
I glance at it sometimes,
pretending i'm just checking the time,
but i know i'm waiting
for a notification that never comes,
for a name that doesn't appear anymore.
I still wonder what you're doing,
if your days are as quiet as mine.
Are you also lost in your own world,
trying to fix what feels broken inside you?
Do you ever think of me
in the middle of a song,
a moment,
a breath?
Sometimes i imagine you'll message again,
maybe out of habit,
maybe out of longing,
maybe because some part of you
misses the peace we once found in each other.
Maybe you'll say, "Hey, can we talk?"
And even if i promised myself not to hope,
a small part of me still whispers,
"Maybe."
I know i shouldn't wait,
but i still do.
Not because i'm weak,
but because what we had
still feels unfinished.
Like a sentence that ended too soon,
or a song that stopped
before the last line.
So here i am
writing again,
because words are the only way
I can still talk to you.
Even if you'll never read them.
Even if you've already moved on.
Maybe someday i'll stop checking my phone,
stop searching for your name
in every quiet hour of the day.
But for now,
this is where you still exist
in the space beside my phone,
and in the heartbeat that refuses to forget.