You used to live
in the soft glow of my favorites—
a name lit up
like a small sun
at the top of my days.

One touch
and there you were.
Easy.
Certain.
Familiar.

But somewhere
between the silence
and the things we never said,
you slipped
where old things go—
memories filed
but not erased.

Now you live
where forgotten things breathe dust,
between old messages
and versions of myself
I barely recognize.

I still find you there sometimes.

A ghost in the folders.
A pulse in the past.
Proof that love
can exist
even after it stops living.

And every time I see your name
my heart does that terrible thing—
it remembers
before it understands.

I know what I’m supposed to do.

There’s a small button
that could erase you
like a typo in a sentence
that meant too much.

Delete.

Such a clean word
for something
so violent.

Because removing you
isn’t just clearing space—
it’s admitting
that the place you held in me
has gone quiet.

But I’m learning.

Slowly.
Painfully.
The way people learn
to put down things
that once felt like oxygen.

You’ve moved
from my favorites
to my archives.

And one day—
maybe not today,
maybe not tomorrow—

I’ll be brave enough
to stop visiting the past
just to prove
it once wanted me back.

JMS