It’s nice to see you again.
You’re always a click away.
I did a thing today.
Will you like it for me right away?
I see you found a new hobby,
you post a link that I copy,
and I like it,
because I like you.
I share my new piece,
take a look at your niece,
you seem happy and it puts me at peace.
But I’m stuck...
I’ve signed a new lease.
Look at this photo, I’ve used new hair grease.
You like it,
and I think it means you like me.
You fall in love and I like
that picture of you and them on that hike;
it feels like I’m with you all the time,
but this bond is only as strong
as our connection to Wi-Fi.
I’ve lost some friends but I deflect
by sharing songs to connect,
but these prevailing thoughts interject:
I’m all alone.
It’s just the screen,
and me.
I look at likes like they’re currency
and I’m currently
using poetry -
a writer’s diplomacy -
to scream “woe is me!”
but I bet you can see
right through me,
can’t you?
My digital friend,
where did this begin,
and where does it end?
Are we bound to do this dance
‘till we’re echoes of dust,
or call it like it is:
you and me, we’re just...
I can’t.
You post a picture.
I like it,
because I like you.
