(un)Kindred Spirit

Sometimes her fingers

crash

against the screen

too fast

and she

forgets

that she is on a

grassy slope

leading down to the

silver lake.

It is calm –

offers her a

rippled reflection,

but its comfort is

only

surface deep.

 

Sometimes she

dreams

about diving in.

Her head would

knock

against the brown

mud at the bottom,

jarring

her back

to reality.

 

This relationship is a

rock

skipping

over the water.

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