The Feed

I saw the photo on the feed

and couldn't leave. Full of need,

I kept scrolling back to her—

her somewhere-else, a blur

of brightness. Her life on display.

The comments said she's okay,

she's beautiful. Everyone agreed.

I watched the wanting feed

inside my chest. The jealousy

started soft, then seized me.

I closed the app. I opened it back.

The photo was still there. I lack

the strength to stop. That's the worst—

being able to see you're thirsty

for a life you'll never reach,

watching it all, just out of reach.