Punchline Hangover

The message glows on my cracked screen—

a joke I thought would crack the room.

The punchline rolled out, sharp and quick,

laughter spilled like spilled beer,

that kind you don’t clean up, just

let soak.

But now the words sour,

stuck beneath my tongue,

like chewing on grit.

It was supposed to be light,

a puff of smoke in a crowded bar.

Instead, it clings to my ribs,

a weight I didn’t know I carried.

Laughter turned to silence,

a flicker where the joke fell flat.

The screenshot fades,

a ghost I can’t delete.