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
over the keyboard.
Somewhere between one sentence
and another,
you slip in,
a thought i never invite,
but never have the heart to chase away.
I used to work with my phone beside me,
its light pulsing softly like a heartbeat,
half my focus on deadlines,
the other half waiting for your name to appear.
You'd send something simple,
a "hi," a joke,
a question that didn't matter,
but somehow did.
And suddenly,
the day would feel lighter.
Even the heaviest hours
became easier to survive,
because somewhere out there,
you were thinking of me too.
But now, it's different.
My phone stays still
cold, silent.
Sometimes i glance at it,
pretending i'm just checking the time,
but really, I'm waiting.
For a notification that never comes,
for a name that no longer appears.
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 the pieces
that no one else can see?
Do you ever think of me
in the middle of a song,
a memory,
a passing breath?
Sometimes, I imagine you'll message again.
Maybe out of habit.
Maybe out of longing.
Maybe because some part of you
still misses the calm we found
in each other.
Maybe you'll say, "Hey, can we talk?"
And even though i've sworn
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
feels unfinished —
like a sentence cut too soon,
a song that stopped
before its final line.
So here i am,
writing again,
because words are the only way
I can still speak 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.