There are days I wake up and instinctively check my phone
as if your name might magically appear.

Even though I know better.
Even though I've seen the silence stretch long enough to break something inside me,
A part of me still waits.

It's not hope exactly...
It's something quieter, more dangerous.
It's the belief that maybe, just maybe, you are thinking of me too.

Sometimes, I type messages I'll never send.
I write like we're still us.
Like time didn't move on. Like you didn't forget.

I wonder if you ever hesitate.
having over my name in your chats,
scrolling through old conversations,
smiling at the memories we're no longer allowed to share.

I keep replaying the last things we said.
Not because they were special,
but because they were the last.
And I didn't know they were the last.

You never said goodbye.
You just slowly became quiet.
And I've been trying to learn.
How to live in that quiet without losing pieces of myself.

But every night before I sleep,
There's still a moment...
Just one fragile second
when I believe your name will light up my screen again.

And when it doesn't,
I turn the phone over,
hide the hurt in my pillow.
And pretend I never waited at all.

A neavy blue background where a girl was laying beside her phone and text written i still wait for a message from you