Dead Battery Moment

The screen blinked out as the bus pulled away,

black and silent, a dead mouth refusing words.

My last chance to call swallowed whole

by the stubborn absence of charge.

Lights blur past, taillights bleeding red,

my cracked screen a mirror to empty hands.

I twist fingers, the city murmurs behind

a voice that isn’t there to answer.

Silence thickens inside the plastic shell,

no buzz, no ring—just the weight

of a connection lost and gone,

waiting, waiting for a spark that won’t come.