i play her hologram on a constant loop as the emptiness threatens to drown me

i cannot touch her but i pantomime slow dancing in the side room

i cannot hear her but imagine what the sound of her voice whispering to me is like

the haze of dust floating through her lit up form is soothing in an odd way

she laughs in ones and zeros across the binary synapses of my tired brain

i’ve forgotten what it means to be held except for the brief moments as my hand slips through her

the warm glow of suffocating desire projected from the ceiling onto the sheets

7 thoughts on “holoher

    1. nah. there is an exquisite beauty in sorrow. one that demands to be seen. i am just happy that the fool’s words resonate with anyone. sometimes it feels like talking to ceiling.


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