He's transfixed by the well-spoken lyrics
of a metaphorical girl
but too tired,
too disconnected
for the feelings
of the girl in the real world right next to him.
Maybe she could text it to him
get his attention for more
than 30 seconds,
Be more like one of those videos
he swipes through
So much
that his finger
twitches to a beat.
But he's beat,
tired,
doesn't have time.

She's no long a mystery he can solve.
He put all the puzzle pieces together
but the image doesn't change.
He's not interested in things
that remain the same
Only new ideas every few seconds,
only stories he can get through in one night.
Anything else
requires too much focus,
too much commitment.

So she swallows and accepts
the few moments in time.
Tries to sum it all up in a thesis statement
Instead of rambling it up in rhyme.
But it feels so ******* insufficient
Every
single
time.