Broken Links

I send my pulse in Morse code through a dead phone line,
You read it slow—like it’s your damn horoscope sign.
Said you’d hold on? Cool. Must’ve meant “hold on… never.”
Left me stitching silence with a rusted tether.
 
My heart’s an EKG—flatlined, but still sarcastic,
Beating just to say: “Your love’s a tragic classic.”
You built a bridge? Nah—just a chain-link fence,
One wrong step and I’m the caution to your ex.
 
Said “distance makes us stronger”—claptrap poetry,
I’m out here counting cracks in “eternity.”
You paint your hope in pastel “maybe-somedays,”
While I’m the ghost who pays your emotional tollways.
 
Oh, you’re “busy healing”? Cute.
I’m busy not believing
That your “space” ain’t just a room
Where my name’s collecting dust like proof
That love’s an app you uninstall
When the signal starts to stall…
 
So send your impulse—if you dare—
Through circuits burned and hollow air.
I’ll catch it with these steel-cold hands
And watch it turn to dust again.
You made a bridge from broken links,
Then called it “trust” and played it slick—
But bridges need two solid ends…
And yours just vanished, my friend.
 
You miss me? Sure—you miss the echo, not the sound.
Miss the shadow, not the man who’s underground
In your priority list—buried right beside
“Call mom” and “fix that leaky, hollow pride.”
 
I carved your name in steel—thought it’d last,
But steel will rust and very fast.
Now it’s just a paperweight on empty plans,
Holding down receipts from “when you had the chance.”
 
You say I’m bitter? Damn right—I’m aged to perfection,
Marinated in your vague “affection.”
Said “I’m not gone, just quiet”—oh, how brave!
Like silence isn’t just a slow dig to my grave.
 
So keep your blurry silhouette,
Your pretty void, and your regret.
I’ll wear this ache like armor—sharp, refined—
While you edit truth to fit your fragile mind.
 
So send your impulse—if you dare—
Through circuits burned and hollow air.
I’ll catch it with these steel-cold hands
And watch it turn to dust again.
You made a bridge from broken links,
Then called it “trust” and played it slick—
But bridges need two solid ends…
And yours just vanished, my friend.