The first one starts with traffic noise A car door closing somewhere You say you'll be ten minutes late Then laugh at your own excuse The timestamp reads September The screen glows in my hand
Three small recordings On an old phone I almost replaced Some things stay longer Than they were meant to
The voice is gone from the room But not from the air Some words stop arriving And still remain there Memory needs so little To keep a light on
The second one is shorter You ask if I got home alright A train passes behind your voice Someone calls your name The message ends too early Like a door left half open
The third one says nothing important Just weather Just dinner plans Just an ordinary Tuesday The kind that quietly becomes a year
The voice is gone from the room But not from the air Some words stop arriving And still remain there Memory needs so little To keep a light on
I delete all three messages The screen goes dark And every word stays exactly where it was
