The Habit

I saw a girl once

Her face was passive

Sometimes frowning

Sometimes smiling

Her face was luminescent

as the moon, but there was

something odd about her

She was statue on Sunday

She was silence at prayer

I had to ask her name

But there was something

Technologic about this

Preventing her to rise her eyes

I couldn't understand

She was divine and all

She was poetic, but there

was something keeping her

eyes from looking at me

She was more like headache on Mondays

or final projects on Sundays

She had a plastic cage

with signals trapping her

essence in some kind of BRB

There she was crosslegged

My head hurting

Giving pulses

Every time she replied OK

The mythology inside her

disappeared in an instant

The poetry flew like sending

messages to a machine

That hates reply emails

Her eyes, demonic after all

Told me LOL "What you looking at?"

DA 2014