We Were Just Noise

At first
we were music.

Laughs bouncing
off walls
like rhythm.

Messages
faster than
heartbeats.

Calls
that never
needed clocks.

We were loud.
Loud enough
to feel real.

Then
something paused.

Replies slowed.
Words felt
clumsy.

Like the signal
was still there
but the station
changed.

I asked
if you were okay.
You said
you were just tired.

But I knew
the kind of tired
you meant.

You were tired
of pretending
we still fit
in the same sentence.

One day
we stopped
talking.

Not with a fight.
With a fade.

And I wonder
did you hear
the silence
as loud
as I did?

Or was I
just background
in your story
all along?

We weren’t love.
We were noise.

And noise
never lasts
in quiet rooms.