My cell phone fell upon a rock,
Next to a lowering sea,
Its diamond brilliance dashed and bled,
Its final thoughts, of me.
Face in the storm.
This win you back?
The rail is worn.
Lithium and sodium,
Embraced in fiery orange grass,
With tortured, metal memories,
Entombed in blobs of molten glass.
My hide from hurt,
Cold beauty's shield,
Your whispered world,
Are phones enraptured, when they die?
No engineer can tell.
But since it slithered from my hand.
It's sent me straight to Hell.
© 2017 Gavin Miller. All rights reserved.