In the Stillness of 4 AM

Your voice hits like aftershocks— the way you'd pause before each goodbye (I was too scared to end it then) Those midnight stories and stupid jokes, painting darkness with our laughter... Your words sparked something I couldn't name but felt in my bones I'd call for nothing, just needing to break through these paper-thin walls & empty spaces where your voice used to live My phone glows at 4 AM chances thin as winter light I still hope it's you through the static your morning voice half-asleep and fading like these dreams I can't shake loose -