Voicemail Ghost

[ Lyrics ]

Your voice lives in my deleted folder.

Third ring, same hesitation, I know it’s not your number now.
But muscle memory wins, and I press play anyhow.
You sound so soft in the silence, like you never really left,
just paused mid-sentence, caught in my digital breath.
I don’t even listen all the way through—just the first three seconds, babe,
that laugh, that ‘Hey, it’s me’—the way you used to save.

I should wipe the cache, let the cloud run dry,
but deleting you feels like dying twice.
So I leave it there, in the void, on repeat—
a ghost I ghosted, begging me to speak.

Your voice lives in my deleted folder,
still warm, still loud, though we’re miles from older.
I don’t talk back, I just let it unfold—
your last ‘I miss you’ in electric gold.

Found your name in the archive, timestamp July,
the night I cried in the Uber, staring at the sky.
You said, ‘Come home, it’s okay, I was wrong, it won’t happen again.’
But it happened again. Still, I saved it like a hymn.
I wear headphones in the daylight, pretend it’s a song,
but at 2 a.m., it’s scripture—where did I go wrong?

I don’t want proof, I don’t want calls,
just this ache that never falls.
You’re not here, but you’re not gone—
just a file that plays on dawn.

One day I’ll press erase and feel no sting,
but tonight, I press replay like a broken thing.
You’re not mine, you’re not real—just a pulse, a tone,
but in this dark, you’re the only one I know.

Your voice lives in my deleted folder,
clear as truth, colder than closure.
I don’t talk back, I just let it unfold—
your last ‘I love you’ in electric gold.
Your voice lives in my deleted folder…

…still playing.