What is a body without its soul?
I saw his face,
not recognizing him
without warmth,
without breath.

When all that remains
are sharp denials
and a soft yes,
I know all is gone.
I keep trying
to redefine myself
with my thoughts.

My virtual words
will never hold
the scent of a book.
A microcosm,
woven on the platforms,
divided across
bittersweet days.
I leave space
for those who may come.

Now I drift in the bubble
of those already lost.
I am, like them,
a sum of interactions,
a collision of thoughts,
the familiar melting
of the same sounds.

A diary
of gestures left behind:
unfinished sentences,
gazes suspended
without reciprocity
or brief fascination,
until I am no longer
canceled by the completed past.

Yes,
for someone
I was
all reality, all world.