A face-down phone and half-empty coffee cup on a wooden table in soft evening light. Quiet and still, evoking digital distance and longing.

I can’t see what’s ahead.
Hope feels far,
and my hands are too small to hold it.

I am lost.

What remains?

A bright phone.
Chats that last into the night,
then leave me afraid.

My heart hurts from the inside,
tired of faces on a screen.

I remember the other touch —
the one that felt real.
A room, coffee, the taste of a friend.
A sunset that asked nothing.

Can I say you are mine?
Can you whisper it softly?
Will I hug you again?

I want to step into that room again,
with a little hope for tomorrow.

 

For the ones who have felt close to someone through a screen, and still felt alone.