If anyone should look for you on my phone for emergency,
blackmail or the paparazzi, there would be no trace
but for a random number which you could always say was
some weird mistake because, for sure, you never knew me.
I deleted everything. It was stupid, thinking that you meant
for me to hold your words, thoughts or, goddess
be amazed, feelings. So my phone is empty of our contact.
The rest will take a bit more precious time but I’m sick
of being someone’s secret and I’m gone, never was kept
more than seconds on your soul or memory card.
Yet, for a while, I dallied in your palm and felt happy, safe.