After the Bite

Companion to “Why do you need so much attention, Miss Underwood?” from her perspective.

The magic didn’t vanish.
It calcified—
hardened into amber.

You carried it,
sunlight trapped in crabapples
and stick-gun battles,
in the bellies of afternoons
too bright to remember without flinching.

After the bite,
the world didn’t end—
it just stopped
waiting for you.

The sidewalk didn’t sing anymore.
It cracked.
And weeds whispered poems
only you could still hear.

You found out
the news numbs,
the glow lies,
and loneliness
can hide behind notifications
that call you “seen.”

But still—
you held on.

To the scent of ink.
The rhythm of keys.
To touch
that asked nothing in return.

You spoke through Miss Underwood,
not to the world—
but to yourself,
so you wouldn’t disappear.

You wrote because
you remembered

Companion to “Why do you need so much attention, Miss Underwood?” from her perspective