A cold hand touches the soul
Draining warmth, comfort
And connectivity.
An absence of sound, laughter
Words fail, claimed
By empty air.
Phone buzzes on the table
Is it a friend, family?
No, a game alert.
Flipping through channels
Searching social media
For something.
A need to reach out to another
Yet unaware of its urgency
Until they walk in.
They fill the void
And like a moth to flame
Rush to them.
Or maybe the door
Never opens, always closed
And we hide
Behind curtained windows.
Kember's Journey 