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a threadbare buzz

Writer's picture: jane doejane doe

the days feel quieter now,

muted like the inside of a car

idling too long in an empty driveway

every memory pulls like a thread,

unraveling what i tried to stitch together

in the dark


there’s a static hum

in the space where your name used to fit,

a feedback loop of “maybe”

and “what if”

it settles into my chest,

a noise i can’t tune out


i thought the quiet would save me,

but it only taught me

to sit with the weight of what you left behind

a hollow kind of stillness,

a hum that never really goes away


sometimes i wonder

if you hear it too,

that low buzz of unfinished things,

ghosts of words unsaid,

or if it follows only me,

a shadow stitched to my heels.

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