i’m bleeding neon through the static—
every heartbeat’s a footnote in your margins.
you scribbled “sorry” in the fog of my phone screen,
but the glass is cracked and the words won’t stay.
i keep replaying the dial-tone rosary,
counting drops of maybe on the bedroom floor.
if love’s just commentary, play it louder—
let the feedback scar, let the echo bruise.
i’ll tattoo this hurt in mixtape blue,
and bleed the night until it sings your name.