The Love That Is Not Typing Back
The middle of the day is long when you are staring at a screen that refuses to light up. You refresh the thread.
Thirty seconds pass. You refresh again.
The silence feels like a verdict, and your chest tightens with the weight of words unsent. But the light does not measure your worth by the speed of a reply.
It knows the ache of waiting in a room where no one speaks. You are not forgotten just because the cursor is still.
The love that holds you is not typing back, yet it has never left your side. Rest your thumb.
The connection was never dependent on the signal.
Drawing from
Matthew 11:28-30, Gospel of Thomas 77
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