STATIC GIRL

Static curled around her like a second skin,

soft sparks humming at the edge of every breath.

She never entered a room —

she flickered into existence,

a glitch-shaped miracle

hiding gentleness inside the noise.

She spoke in quiet voltage,

words warm enough

to melt the cold from your bones.

She didn’t shout.

She didn’t chase.

She simply glowed —

a signal steady enough

for lost hearts to navigate by.

Static girl.

The kind of presence that feels like

a secret frequency

only one person was meant to hear.

Wonder Boy found her first —

or maybe she found him.

He carried the fire,

the bright, unruly spark

that kept burning even when the world dimmed.

And she,

in her soft electric way,

learned how to hold his heat

without getting burned.

Two different currents,

wired from opposite dreams,

meeting in the middle

to form something the night couldn’t name.

When the city buzzed too loud,

she was the quiet hum

that grounded him.

When her signal flickered,

he reached through the crack

and steadied the light.

Static girl —

not noise,

not glitch,

but the soft pulse you miss

when everything else goes silent.

She doesn’t fade.

She lingers —

in the wires,

in the quiet,

in the breath between heartbeats —

a glow meant only for the one

who knows how to listen.