fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck, fuck, fuck
i type this over and over until it has no meaning
your sad flat death tears me open as i look at my iPhone 6
drinking sparkling water you mocked and losing breath
i am sidetracked by your soppy haste
stuck with memories of your excessive race of late-night texts
you validated my need for constant attention
we drenched ourselves in Netflix shows of lost friends
they spoke via hipster mediums to be devoured by highschoolers
they performed melodramatic suicides like you
gone but not from the best places
online but off in ancient tweets
you could’ve measured your age in the number of cats that you’d owned
you died at 3 cats old
it’s so fucking weird when you think about it like that
i think about you when my screens turn black
it tears my skin
it leaves me rattled with a broken heart
it assigns me no meaning
my mind liquefies and my phone goes off at work
i take a long swig of my Pamplemousse La Croix
you’ve faded into the upside down
and with a lonely lack of existence
these words will soon be deleted