"reader, read her"

at 2 AM, your screen dims then brightens— 
a single stanza pulses in the corner, 
waving like a lantern in the fog.

you swipe past: new playlists to follow, 
coupons to clip, endless feeds to scroll, 
poets you’ve liked, genres you’ve bookmarked.

but she—this blinking poem—leans closer,
her words unfurl, constellations expanding, 
beckoning you beyond your ...

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You think I don’t still feel it? 
The echo never left. 
It’s in the light that spills 
across the floor like we used to—
chaotic, accidental, warm.

Yes, I heard every word 
you didn’t mean and the silence 
that swallowed what we couldn’t say.

Time doesn’t rewind, but it replays. 
Not in full—just flashes. 
Your laugh— like a match 
right before the burn.

I wish we’d argued soft...

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