Taproot Static

[Verse 1]
The green dot on your profile flickered out Tuesday, 4:17.
My screen went cold, a pane of glass I’m leaning over, looking in.
The algorithm's still suggesting posts I know you would've seen,
A phylogenetic ghost, a phantom limb inside the whole machine.
My thumb hovers on the block, a gardener over-pruning back the vine,
Through the window, Forsyth fountain’s spitting out a broken silver line.
This ain’t an ecosystem built for two, it's just a habitat for one.
I’m cataloging extinctions by the light of a synthetic sun.

[Verse 2]
I scrolled back three whole years of chat to find the password to the light bill,
Felt the pluff mud pull me under, memories with chitin, standing night-still.
Muscle memory is a monster, taps your name into the search bar,
Felt a phantom buzz inside my pocket parked outside of Abe's on Lincoln car.
Typed "You still got my copy of that botany textbook from last fall?"
Watched the cursor blink a minute, then I held delete and wiped it all.
They say a haint can’t cross the water, but they never said a thing about the Wi-Fi.
You a dialect of static fading out on my eye-fi.

[Chorus]
Left my read receipts on blue so you could watch the silence grow.
Just a timestamp and a vacuum, that’s the only proof I know.
Left my read receipts on blue so you could watch the silence grow.
It’s a kindness and a violence, a quiet "no."

[Outro]
The cicadas start their buzzing. Audrey’s looking hungry.