Inbox.

Your name has always been at the bottom of my inbox,
popping up again, and again, and again.

Deleted messages, important and not.
Notifications.
Altercations.
Vacations from face to face contact.

I leave your name there,
to reassure me that life is real.

How could I move you to the trash?

Or maybe, I just like the little flutter my heart makes,
when I read your name.