me

Our existence is wrapped up in busy fingertips

attracted to the alluring samples of scintillating screens

their constant updates filling our rapidly shrinking heads

But this touch has such little intimacy within its cerebral connection

where eyes no longer meet eyes; not light-filled nor even soul-piercing

soft, warm flesh not felt, and beating hearts not known

There is metal in our mouths now, that will stick in our throats

while impenetrable walls grow thicker to keep us apart

Until, out of reach, and each of us, alone

we will no longer remember how to breathe