Lyrics
He sends me something every morning before I find my feet A photograph, a fragment, something he thought I should keep I've learned the pause he takes before he settles on a word His three-dot ellipsis better than some voices I have heard I have his voice on Tuesday evenings I have his 3am I have the photograph he sent me On a rainy afternoon But there's a room somewhere He fills with his breathing And I've never once Been inside that room He lives in my phone In the blue of his name lighting up He lives in my phone In the almost, the not-quite, the not-enough I hold him so close In the ways a screen allows He lives in my phone And I wonder where he is right now I've studied every photograph he's chosen me to see His good side, his best light, his carefully edited geography He called me once and came through thin against all that glass I heard him laugh and lost it in the static as it passed I have his humor, have his heartbreak Have his history unspooled I have his name lit blue at midnight When the house is cold and still But I don't know him standing In the middle of a room Or how the silence sounds When it's between us and it's real He lives in my phone In the blue of his name lighting up He lives in my phone In the almost, the not-quite, the not-enough I hold him so close In the ways a screen allows He lives in my phone And I wonder where he is right now I used to think that love could live In the space between two screens That close enough to everything Was close enough to being But presence has a gravity You can't compress or send He lives inside my phone And I love him Past the place where phones can reach He lives in my phone On the nightstand, almost near He lives in my phone The warmest thing in here I'll read him in the morning Like I always do He lives in my phone And I'm not sure he knows I'm real too