You manifest just as you dissipate.
My eyes glued, my head spinning.
It is too much to keep my gaze from you.
I will not disregard your time and place,
or your power to show the better sides of mine,
but my fingertips once colliding with yours
can only scroll through half of that now.
Half of you.
No longer whole.
You are pixelated, encoded in animosity and mutual care.
Mutual, because I am too.
You only see my struggle when I allow.
Decoding your mask does not make me immune to my own.
You cast a forlorn glance my way,
through secret code and cyberspace.
I return in privacy.
To show you my version is irresponsible.
So we hide here, patiently,
waiting for the other to like what they see.
Stripped of self,
Redone in data,
We walk away from our cornerstone.
Contact Erin Haar at [email protected].