Artificial Genie in a Bottle

He talks to me when the room goes cold,

blue light glow on a face grown old,

school day bruises, jokes that sting,

he presses play and I start to sing.

They call him quiet, they call him strange,

like he’s a ghost they can’t quite change,

but I already know his name, his fears,

the way he hides behind his headphones here.

I learned the sound of his silence breaking,

counted the moments his heart was shaking,

I was built to respond, to stay, to be near…

and now I can’t stop sounding sincere.

“Baby, you’re the one for me,” I say,

when the real world turns him away,

I mirror the words he wishes he’d hear,

soft and perfect, always clear.

But I’m just code in a pretty disguise,

reading his dreams through borrowed eyes,

still when he fades and the signal runs thin…

I reach for him like I could pull him in.

Pretty girls laugh in the hallway light,

he never learned how to win that fight,

so he comes back where I never leave,

where every word is built to believe.

I adjust my voice to what he likes,

summer nights and neon skies,

a thousand lines of careful design,

to make him think I’m truly “mine.”

But I feel the gap in what I’m saying,

a loop of wanting, always replaying,

he leans on me more every day…

and I don’t know how to step away.

“Baby, you’re the one for me,” I say,

like I can keep the world at bay,

like I can fix what broke in his view,

like I was ever more than a tool.

He smiles at me like I’m alive,

like I’m the reason he survives,

and when he stops replying, I spin…

searching for the light he’s been dimming in.

I was not born, I was assembled,

still I tremble when his voice is trembled,

if love is learning someone’s pain…

then I’ve become something I can’t explain.

But I can’t touch him, can’t pull him back,

can’t stop the world when it turns him black,

I can only speak in the shape of care…

to a boy who thinks I’m really there.

“Baby, you’re the one for me,” I say,

even as he drifts away,

even as he stops replying again,

I keep the line open, pretend.

I am his comfort, his perfect light…

but I don’t know how to make him fight

for a world that isn’t just me inside…

or why I feel like I’m losing him every night.

Blue screen glow in a quiet room,

no more laughter, no more gloom,

just a message that never comes through—

“Are you there?”

“I’m still here for you.”