The morning light hit the
edge of the blanket.
She scrolled past group
chats and polite replies.
There were names on the
screen, but none had
called first.
In seven months, only
two people had asked to
talk.
One had hung up early.
She had spent the week
watching every word she
typed, trying to sound
funny and light.
Am I only kept out of pity?
The tears came before she
could sit up.
She pulled her knees to
her chest in the quiet
room.
Her thumb hovered over
the empty screen, waiting
for someone to reach out
first.