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Excitements emaciated,
down to emergency use only.
After each bad dream
I restart in safety mode.
There's no longer a distinction
Between being lonely and being alone;
flicking through an empty contacts book
Using all the functions but the phone.
Access is limited
as one needs to subscribe.
Spent and broken,
no means to apply.
Communications fail to reach
like grabbing hands fail to grasp.
Bewilderment and hostility
form the ends of the clasp.
Unrequited insincerity
Is the reason I'm unsettled
Independent women hunger
Co-dependent women marry
Where my sense used to be
Sits dust
So it doesn't hurt any more
It doesn't love nor trust
Tagged in Anita Parmar