The Algorithm of Us

Every day, I check your socials,

just to see if you’re still here,

still okay.

It isn’t only that we share

an unsafe country,

a thin thread of awareness.

The odds we’ll meet

aren’t low,

just unwritten.

We share a pulse:

justice, story,

the ache of wanting things to mean something.

I write from the deep dark,

and you read like you’ve been there too.

The pull hasn’t faded.

It sharpens.

Years have passed,

and still I wonder.

Are you only my special interest,

a beautiful fixation my brain won’t release?

Or are you scrolling,

seeking without knowing,

guided by the same quiet hunger?

If you stopped,

if you saw this,

I’d only say:

I see you.

I feel the fire in your soul.

My life is full, intertwined,

but the urge to reach you

weighs heavy,

like being pushed too high

on the swings in childhood,

terrified and thrilled

all at once.

I don’t want forever.

Only a moment.

A crossing

between kindred spirits.

That would be enough.