If You Heard Me

I left your hoodie on the back of my chair,

cold coffee rings and a note that I stared.

You said call me when the noise comes down.

I typed a paragraph and backed it out.

I watched our photos float up in the cloud,

told all my friends I'm fine out loud.

But in the quiet of the afterglow, I'm arguing with echoes on my phone.

If I'm honest, I was scared to say it first.