Disconnected
In a world woven with wires,
I stand still,
a stranger in the hum of voices,
the glow of screens reflecting
a pale loneliness against my skin.
Friendships flicker like dying flames,
texts sent into the void,
echoes of laughter lost
in the thrum of busy signals,
each notification a reminder,
of the spaces that grow deeper,
instead of filling with warmth.
How fragile the bridge of connection,
laid across the chasms of silence,
where hearts beat out of sync,
and the faces we see
are mere pixels,
floating just beyond our reach.
I reach for you,
but my fingers touch only
the cool glass of a phone,
a promise of something genuine,
shattered by the speed of life,
like leaves swept in a gust,
unanchored, unbound.
Yet in this disarray,
I yearn for the days
when laughter rolled,
unfiltered and free,
and eyes met without barriers,
in the sun’s embrace,
where distance was simply
a flat horizon,
and warmth was felt,
not imagined.
But the world keeps spinning,
tethered by threads of technology,
as I stand here yearning,
a spirit adrift,
seeking the shores
of connection once more.
Copyright ©
Christen Foster
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