Digital Hearts: A Love Story Between Girls and Their Cellphones
Unveiling the Unseen Bonds of a Digital Era
In a world where screens glow with enticing allure,
A love story unfolds, captivating and pure.
Teenage girls, their hearts intertwined,
With their beloved cellphones, a bond defined.
A dance of fingertips upon the glowing glass,
Unlocking a universe, emotions amass.
In the realm of pixels, they find solace and glee,
An extension of self, where they're truly free.
Their cellphones, companions in the dead of night,
Illuminate their dreams, a guiding light.
With every text, notification, and scroll,
They embark on a journey, heart and soul.
Through social media's vast expanse,
They seek connection, a digital dance.
Likes and comments, a currency of affection,
A virtual stage for self-expression.
Snapshots frozen in time, cherished memories,
Filtered perfection, a visual reverie.
Selfies and portraits, curated and styled,
Unveiling a narrative, their essence compiled.
Text messages exchanged, a symphony of words,
Emotions painted, emotions heard.
In the realm of emojis, hearts come alive,
Conveying affection, a language to thrive.
Late-night conversations under virtual skies,
Whispers in the dark, secrets in disguise.
Their cellphones witness tears and laughter,
Unveiling their souls, moments they're after.
But amidst the digital embrace, a cautionary tale,
The longing for validation, a delicate scale.
Comparison's weight, an invisible burden,
In a world of filtered lives, self-worth uncertain.
The screen's glow casts shadows upon reality,
As they navigate the dichotomy with duality.
Striving for connection, while longing for release,
Bound by the beauty and the turmoil, seeking peace.
Yet let us not forget, beyond the digital sea,
Girls blossom with dreams, unbridled and free.
For their cellphones, while cherished and adored,
Cannot replace the touch of what life has in store.
In friendships' embrace, laughter echoing wide,
In nature's whispers, where secrets reside.
In books' pages turned, worlds to explore,
In their own reflection, the love they restore.
So may they find balance in this love affair,
With their cellphones, a companion fair.
May they embrace life's wonders, far and near,
Unveiling the beauty beyond the screen's veneer.
For teenage girls, with hearts so bright,
Let not the virtual overshadow the light.
May they cherish each moment, both small and grand,
With their cellphones, held firmly in their hand.
In this ever-evolving digital age,
Their love for their cellphones, a modern stage.
Yet may they remember, with wisdom and grace,
To nurture the love within, their hearts' true space.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Henry Berg and writers in Poets and other communities.
Absolute Zero
My ambitious maw couldn't keep me warm anymore. You were the wolfhound that kept attacking it to sustain yourself. Everything you could steal, you did no matter how insignificant. You siphoned my life in small increments in order to achieve a sense of regularity. It was all for appearance's sake. You were the rat king my tail kept getting attached to. I would scurry away but all to no avail. I wallowed in compromise and misery in an attempt to be less for you. I was driven but you were threatened by anything resembling intelligence. You loved me being incomplete. I pretended to be deaf so you could speak for me. I chose silence so you could choose for me instead. I learned to surrender because you felt some desperate need to be in command. My opinion of you continued to shrink. You were never the almighty one you convinced yourself you were. It's amazing how fragile your masculinity was so you had to take my dignity to supplement. I was the undead carcass you kept feeding on. You couldn't find your own food source so you used me for your appetite. You refused to find shelter so I became your haven at the expense of myself. You somehow always knew better, it seemed. Like there was written proof somewhere out there in the cosmos that you were the superior one. I was the deluded victim you had to subjugate and keep isolated. You made it your life's mission to devalue me. You did everything to justify your abusive and callous behavior. You were always my biggest disappointment, You made sure I didn't deserve better. I had to worship you because you lived off of recognition. I was kept hostage for 15 years while you remained drunk off of my tears. I was the aberration I sought but could never enforce. You were the unwelcome savior that felt compelled to trap me. I was held captive and was forced to enjoy it. I soared beyond your limitations but you punished me for that. My entropy was at always at your mercy. You wanted me at my lowest, at absolute zero. My energy was at your disposal. I was a dedicated zombie that couldn't breathe without your permission. I was forever caught in your perpetual undertow. What would it mean to prosper? What would it feel like to reclaim my power? I was the walking dead you feared would rise against you one day. I wasn't willing to join you at your subterranean level. My melancholy is no longer my friend. I have slowly ascended to the height I always pictured myself achieving. My endeavors refuse to be frigid and tepid. You are banished to the frozen exteriors of my mind. Where polar ice and bleak extremities knew me so well. I was once at absolute zero. I was a former version of myself you kept hidden for fear of losing to. I'm not who I used to be. I am allowed to evolve beyond arctic cold. I'm thawing out, slowly but surely. The temperature is rising and so am I. My heat obliterated you because you kept stripping me of it. I was a motionless entity, encased in marble glacier, a reminder of all that I had dreamt of. Those dreams have returned. They have bestowed their value unto me once more. I'm not your captive anymore. I've been diminished long enough. Go be one with your beloved entropy. My energy cannot be destroyed nor removed anymore. You have no more influence over me anymore
By Anna Torres7 days ago in Poets
My New Book is Finally Here
My poetry collection Beautiful and Brutal Things is done. It's actually done and finally published over 270 pages. Over a year of my life went into this book. More than a year, really. Long days at my computer, sometimes seven days a week because I couldn't stop even when I probably should have. Then two months of editing that felt harder than the writing itself. But it's finished, and I'm still standing, and the book is real.
By Tim Carmichael5 days ago in BookClub
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.