half-empty, i perch
precariously
on the ledge,
and glare, that glare
of a screen,
its harsh blueness
leeching
life out of young
eyes, i dread,
that dreadful
slate
of glass,
a false reality,
a disease.
i yearn for
the attention
it receives,
yearn,
if only for a quick
glance, a gentle
caress, those gentle
lips brushing
against my cold
exterior, that smallest,
smallest gesture,
a hopeful fantasy,
a life.
--look away
