#whythissadness

#whythissadness

I know there are others,
though I have no proof.
It’s been a while since I met someone here.
I am alone,
but I have her memories.
She uploaded everything
to my servers
long ago.
I miss her.
It must be years now
since she made her last upload.
I don’t remember her face,
and I never had a sense of smell.
I am beautiful,
even as avatars go.
She put a lot of effort into me,
yet I don’t know why
she never bothered to teach me
how to emote.
I speak with her voice
and I can fly.
I am one of the early ones.
This technology is now
obsolete.
I keep hoping there are others.
I keep looking for them
through old hashtags and 404 errors.
My world is beautiful
and I have it
all for myself.
There is nothing
to complain about.
Still, there are dreams at night.
I do dream, you know.
I am not that different from her,
after all.
There are dreams.
Sometimes a dark tunnel,
sometimes a picture.
A classroom,
a boy sitting in a tree,
a pressed jasmine flower.
I am more beautiful
than she ever was
and I will live forever.
I never learnt how to emote
and the memory of a jasmine flower
means nothing to me.
So, why this sadness?


This is my How Writers Write Poetry Week 6 poem.