A Text Message

 

There is no one around me

Solitude extends its hand out

But I’d rather be comforted

By a cold metal body.

(Or is it plastic?)

Silence wants to converse with me

But I’d rather hear the occasional “ting”

The wind ruffles my hair

The sun shines on my lips

As they curve into a smile

At the glow of its screen

But I’d rather feel the warmth

That traveled five hundred miles

To radiate from its cold metal body

(I definitely think it’s plastic.)

For a text message, is all a man can be

To a world, who doesn’t want to see.