Red Flags
He hides his phone when you’re near,
Fingers fumble, clouded fear.
Notifications off at night,
Darkness veils the glaring light.
Silent whispers in his chest,
Half-truths spoken, half repressed.
“Just some work,” he softly pleads
But trust can’t bloom from poisoned seeds.
Location off, a phantom’s trace,
You’re left to wonder, left to chase.
His stories shift, they twist and turn,
Your gentle heart begins...
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