You were my best friend.
You lifted me up when I couldn’t fly on my own.
You shined the flash flight so I could
see my own two feet in the dark.

You were my lifeboat.
My safety net.
My little home.
My personal cave.

I look at your face now
and your smile is soft. Genuine.
Lovely.
It’s almost like whoever took that photo of you
is the love of your life.

CLICK.

I ex out of it and tell myself
to just stop thinking.
So. I scroll backwards,
I see us.

SMILE.

You still have proof that we existed.
And we did, didn’t we?
We did. And you still know.

I breathe out slowly.
I feel relieved you didn’t delete me.
Maybe your new love doesn’t mind.
Maybe you already told her about my
obsession with nutella and sad lyrics.
Maybe you already told her about my
messed up heart.

God.
I hope so.
I hope to god so.
I wish I could ask you everything.
But right now
I can’t even tell you anything.

I tell myself not to look at your page again.
It’s reassuring.
It’s sad.
It’s blurry.
It’s still full of unanswered questions.
And I will always have questions.