Hey, Siri. Take a note.
Take a note for every time I make a new document to write a paper for class, only for you to power down in 2 paragraphs, because I've observed your patterns and my studies show that I can't depend on you. You crest and trough in intervals so irregular that if someone were to trace your path, from 79 percent, to 58, to 31 and 79 all over again, they'd be able to outline the Sierra Madre.
Take a note for every time you black out like the lights in a house of a horror movie, as dread like waiting for a spirit beyond the door overcomes me, because you know what -- forget the jumpscare, your sudden death already caught me unawares.
Take a note for every time my heart stops over a powerbank left at home, because not even halfway through my Grab trip, you're full, half full, all gone.
Take a note for every time you register a full green bar one minute, only to drop to 15% in two, because I'll have you know, I'm through.
Take note - I'm disappointed in you.
You make my face light up one second, only to dim into a faint red glow the next.
You've proven yourself unreliable; how can I call you my friend?
You're my heart's ultimate puppeteer, second to none,
You get me charged up only to drain me of the color in my face like the green in the corner, full, half empty, all gone.
Shit, I could toss you aside, falling to my knees,
Watch your screen crack, shatter, cave in
As its glass shards fly and pierce my skin
Ripping my chest to shreds as my heart takes a piece, but that can't be,
because you tore it apart when you powered down on me!
You're the reason I think the glass is half empty, and I… am empty.
I stare into the void of my dead phone screen -- black. Low battery.
I see wrinkles creasing through my forehead, the bags beneath my eyes,
I see dilated orbs drained of any vigor, any life.
I see my reflection on this black mirror, devoid of any expression whatsoever.
No curves lifting the sides of my lips, no pink flushing both my cheeks, just me, soulless.
I'm empty. It's funny. Through you, I see a girl
who crests and troughs at intervals so irregular,
Who's traced the outline of the Sierra Madre on herself,
Who cracks quicker than glass once she's fallen to her lowest
Who realizes that maybe she's been too hard on you, that maybe she should take a look at herself before she opens her mouth,
before she cracks, shatters, caves in,
glass shards flying, spreading thin.
I stare down at your screen's shards across the floor,
I realize how I can't put you back together, not anymore.
I'm very sorry. I have no words.
I guess you can say… I'm full, half empty, all gone.
inspired by the time my phone's battery enjoyed crapping out whenever it felt like.
this one goes out to the inconsistent friends who fail to keep their promises.