Black Mirror

I watched it go, the screen just

flicker once, a tiny hiccup

of light, then black. Total blank.

My thumb was poised on 'send'

for him. For him.

The heat from its plastic still

in my palm, a ghost of power

that's gone. Under the kitchen's

fluorescent hum, that dead rectangle

reflects nothing but my face,

all smeared mascara and wishing.

Seventy-three percent this morning.

I swore it. Thought I had hours.

Now, just this stupid, heavy brick

like my own stupid heart.

No sound, no buzz, no second chance.

Just me, and the awful quiet

of a question that won't get answered.

Not tonight. Not ever, probably.

God, I'm such an idiot.