Facebook Friend

Lines of status updates

are bee stings on my brain

Each happy word is a

piece of my soul, voided.

 

A familiar face

as the page keeps scrolling

catches my sleepy eye

and stabs my lonely heart.

 

I write words in a box

with my spring bee fingers.

They tap and twirl away

like two ballroom dancers.

 

My eyes stare at the box

like a pretty stranger.

Message seen, no reply.

Blank space tells me volumes.

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