For Mushi

https://unsplash.com/photos/wESKMSgZJDo

I read our texts one last time.

After years of hellos, convos 
and timid endearments,
I can still picture you;
your full lips and bright-eyes
as you would narrate your day
or brow creased in annoyance 
when we’d argue.

These days I wish we still argued.

I read our texts one last time,
then I deleted them.

It seems the only way 
to hear your voice these days
is to scroll all the way up
then read in my head
the way you would have.

It aches,
going from speaking to you everyday
to barely hearing from you at all,
and even though I should move on
ghosts are dead things that still have faith.

I read our texts one last time,
then I deleted them.
But first I made a backup.

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