You were always petite,
with your thirteen inch screen
sometimes I had to squint
to catch the fine print,
though more often than not
I didn’t read it – I trusted you.

Someone else’s hands had been all over you
before we even met,
I dread to think
about the fingers thick as sausage links
dipped into salsa bowls with chips
slip and sliding on your keys;
oh you were cleaned
but pressing my ear to your alphabet
I swear sometimes I could hear his heavy breathing.

We’ve spent three years together,
travelled three countries together,
and the crack in your face
screams ‘relationships need structure!’,
however, I never thought the day would come
when you wouldn’t boot up first time.

When you went completely blind
at first I was frustrated,
but part of me knew our time was near;
I hooked you up to a life-support machine,
your stretched insides on someone else’s screen
said to me ‘what kind of life is this?’.

My eyes were moist as I packed away our things;
poems, sketches, pictures and Cvs;
I’m sure you took longer than usual,
but who could blame you
for toeing the dirt
while waiting for the final ride
for which I’ll catch alone this time,
you turned off
for good this time,

Goodbye my friend,