The Drunk Text That Was Actually Poetry
The Autocorrected Drunk Text, Now Poetry
I turned a typo into a legacy.
I live in the glow of a cracked phone screen, where every typo is a rebellion and every deleted word haunts me like a ghost. I write because the world is too loud before sleep, and only the quiet things deserve to stick around. I wear mismatched socks like a badge of honor and believe streetlights were made just for me.
What I'm Into: late-night revelations, typos with meaning, cold brew gone warm, storm windows, unsent messages
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