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The day my iTouch cracked,
I cried.
I ran my fingers over the spider web on the screen
And watched it brighten eagerly in response.
I apologized to it.
For shoving it into my backpack that morning,
Pushing it between my books without care,
without respect.
I vowed to it.
That I would be more cautious,
That I’d hold it gently,
If it would just
go back
to the way
it
was
.
And as I kissed the fractures in its once smooth screen,
And stroked it tenderly before sliding it into my pocket,
I knew that I was lost





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