Static Noise

I thought the silence between us was poetry—

filled with meaning,

pauses that held promise.

But turns out,

we had no rhythm.

No pull.

Just projection,

wrapped in illusion,

tied with threads I wove alone.

I mistook the echo of my own hope

for your voice—

a sound that never truly belonged to you.

Now,

you orbit like a ghost that doesn’t know it’s dead,

hovering in spaces I’ve outgrown.

I don’t flinch,

don’t yearn.

I just listen,

and hear nothing but static.

You were just noise.

And maybe,

that’s the closure I didn’t know I needed.