We Don't Talk Anymore

Conversations used to flow easily - like messages sent without spellcheck. Now the silence between the two phones rings louder than any ringtone. Fingers remember dialling the number, but the heart's memory, alas, can't be erased with a swipe. All those "How are you doing?" and laughing at silly things suddenly felt like a luxury. Only the familiar phantoms remained – the notification melody, thoughts of who is now sharing those same silly memes. And yes, of course, I absolutely don't want to know what dress, what hands, what words are next to him now. But the thoughts keep coming - like spam you can't unsubscribe from. The song smells like an old chat where the last message hangs with a sad "seen." It feels like someone turned off the sound on the memories - and they're still playing.