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