The Quiet Cut

Stark white, the phone screen glowed,

like a small, accusing ghost.

'Cancellation Confirmed,' it read,

a clean slice through what was lost,

or maybe just forgotten.

The blue link below, 'Manage Account,'

now a dead end. No reason to click.

Months I'd let it run, a small bleed,

a thing I meant to fix,

and finally, someone else did it.

Not me. The system just decided,

cut the cord. A subscription to what?

A million choices I never made,

a library I never opened, shut.

A quiet severing. No grand goodbye.

Just this small text, confirming

I was less connected than before.

And for a second, a strange lightness,

like a debt I didn't know I bore,

was lifted. Or maybe just renamed.