The Unsent Text, Or, A Missing Chair

A phone screen flickered, a random shot,

your jacket sleeve, just a corner, caught.

And the memory, it struck me, then,

of how it vanished, where, and when.

No fight, no words, no door slammed shut,

just a slow, soft fading, a deep, silent cut.

Like a breath held in, then let out slow,

a quiet knowing, nowhere to go.

The empty mug, on the table, still warm,

but the steam long gone, after the storm

of nothing. A space, where you should be.

A chair pulled out, for no one but me.

I tried to recall the last real sound,

your voice, your laugh, but nothing was found.

Just that image, a sleeve, a fleeting sign,

of a friendship ended, not yours, nor mine.