Archived Us

Couldn't sleep, so I did the thing I said I'd stop,
opened up your page and scrolled down from the top,
and the lake was gone, and the kiss in the snow,
and the one in your shirt from a year ago.
But nothing said "deleted," nothing said "gone,"
you just put us somewhere, and you moved on.

And I know what it means
when you hide, not erase:
you're keeping a door
in a locked little place.

You didn't delete us, you archived us,
didn't burn the pictures, just let 'em gather dust.
Your grid went from thirty down to nineteen,
and I know where the other eleven have been.
Somewhere only you can go,
three a.m., and nobody knows,
one little tap, and we're back on display,
so tell me, do you ever go back that way?

I'm no better, I deleted you, sure,
but "Recently Deleted" keeps you thirty days more,
and every twenty-ninth night, like a fool,
I hit "recover," and I break my own rule.

And I know what it means
when you hide, not erase:
you're keeping a door
in a locked little place.

You didn't delete us, you archived us,
didn't burn the pictures, just let 'em gather dust.
Your grid went from thirty down to nineteen,
and I know where the other eleven have been.
Somewhere only you can go,
three a.m., and nobody knows,
one little tap, and we're back on display,
so tell me, do you ever go back that way?

Maybe that's what love is when it's done,
not a fire, not a fight, just a folder, just one,
two people with a button they won't press,
holding on to each other a little less.

You didn't delete us, you archived us,
didn't burn the pictures, just let 'em gather dust.
Your grid went from thirty down to nineteen,
and I know where the other eleven have been.
And yeah, I archived you too, it's true,
I just go back more than you do.
So if we ever show up on your grid again,
I'll know you went back. I'll know where you've been.

You didn't delete us...
you just hid us.