Unread Messages

There's a rain-warped flyer

in a window we should close

And your old number

is a ghost that almost knows (it almost knows)

A damp paper image in a silent chat screen Dragging it down

to the trash unseen I dialed the old digits but they're owned

by a stranger

Hovering fingers, a digital danger

Drafting a message, delete it again

Almost a lover,

almost a friend

There's a rain-warped flyer in a window we should close And your

old number is a ghost that almost knows They're writing a message

that they'll never send to me

Lost in the static of a modern tragedy

Two dots dancing on the glass

Waiting for the code to pass

But the typing fades away...

Close the chat. No response.