The drift from missing a piece of poetry to living my life casually indiscreetly.
It always questions myself, as the string leads nowhere but at the bottom of my balcony.
The settled tip of the moment that doesn’t involve people or loudly looking up.
Capturing the sky with a gentle hug and pulling from the counter.

I’m fond of moments where you don’t see creators, artists or writers constantly on their knees.
Knowing that people got their message straight directly centered around likes.
Sometimes the ingenious is noticed, but I don’t say anything.
They replay this message inside of your head wanting you to press the like button.
The obligation just hits a multitude of things that aren’t seen on the surface.

The tug and tap you see on each version of the screen.
The cold ability to notice the torture on the other side.
No say.