Image credit: Twitter Twemoji Image credit: Twitter Twemoji
I can’t stop thinking about it.
Whenever I close my eyes, I see it.
Whenever I plug my ears, I hear it.
Whenever my mouth is closed, its name dances on the tip of my tongue.
Sometimes I see it when I walk down the street.
Others have it, but I don’t.
Others can run their fingers across it.
They can taste it, they can smell it.
Whereas I am stuck dreaming about it.
I work so that I might afford it.
I rest so that I might find it.
I live because there is still a chance I might have it.
I would die if it ceased to be.
I wish that by some miracle it might appear before me.
But it never does.
It will not die for me.
It will not live for me.
It never rests for me.
It never works for me.
It never dreams of me.
It doesn’t yearn to touch me, smell me, taste me.
It has others, but doesn’t have me.
It never notices me on the street.
It does not know my name.
It never listens for me.
It never looks for me.
It never started thinking of me.
The following was not initially part of the piece, but I mentioned it in discussion afterwards.
Okay, if you must know, I thought of different things when writing different lines.
At some points ‘it’ was a person.
At some points ‘it’ was money.
At some points ‘it’ was an Apple product.