Seen but Unread | Poem about Childhood Friends
We grew up in the same three streets,
Our childhood mapped in scooter trails and pillow forts,
Before our screens became windows to elsewhere,
Before notifications replaced knocking on doors or ringing doorbells.
Now I watch your life unfold in squares,
A digital abyss of text and photos.
I double-tap your happiness from miles away,
A gesture thinner than the air between us.
Sometimes I type and delete whole conversations,
Words evaporating into what could have been said.
Your status always shows as active,
But we haven't truly spoken in years.
I wonder about the parallel life.
Where we didn't drift with the current of time,
Where college and careers and commitments.
Didn't slowly erode our once-solid shore.
Would we still finish each other's sentences?
Would we still remember the same jokes?
Or was this distance inevitable,
A natural tide no childhood promise could overcome?
My message sits in my palm at midnight—
"We should catch up sometime"
Four years ago, and still I tell myself.
Tomorrow you’ll find the right words to reply.
I had always offered my hand to help,
always had a room to stay—
I hope the gesture was always wanted,
and I hope you intended one last “hey.”
Perhaps in another timeline we still talk,
Sharing coffee instead of fragmentary statuses,
But in this one, I'll watch from afar,
Connected by memory, separated by life.