Pmsing
Her finger mindlessly swiping on the screen, not knowing she was about to land on a calamity
a photo of him reaching mile thirteen
He’s finding joy in life without her
And she?
presses her thumb to the glass
so his rugged face remains on display
And she
brings his blurry image closer to her face
kissing pixels
And she stays there
crunched up in a mustard yellow chair too small even for her frail frame
And she stays there
For hours
Her thumb cramping from holding on so tightly to past memories
Until her battery dies