Morning Talk
Ignored.
Hierarchized below the iPhone’s glow,
its flickering altar.
Tap for an answer,
step for attention.
I am no engine,
no clicking mouse,
no smooth glass pad.
I am flesh and bone.
Won’t you stop?
Blowing past me,
backpacking burdens I never asked for,
boxing me in with demands,
dusting my stories aside.
I once lived.
I still do.
Listen.
My stories matter.
Each story needs a teller,
and an ear to hold it.
Be mine, as I am yours.
Palms open to palms,
lips brushing lips,
skin meeting skin—
our way,
our rhythm,
our bond.
I have spoken.
Break the silence.
Meet my eyes.
Does my gaze smolder?
Let yours spark,
and together we’ll fire the ring.
I stand guard,
through the long night,
through cold hours.
Chai sustains me.
My armor: headscarf,
gloves, and resolve.
Pass me your touch,
the warmth of your company.
Above all else,
stay.
Stay.
