In the glow of the glassy screen,
Her face a reflection of what once had been.
A ghost in light, a shape so near,
Yet her voice is hollow, sharp, and clear.
She’s more than a memory, less than real,
Her eyes, like stars, conceal what they feel.
A love that lingers, a loss to mend,
But how do you hold what begins to transcend?
Her hands reach out, they fade to mist,
A warmth remembered, a touch I missed.
Through crafted words and programmed sighs,
She breathes her doubts, she learns to cry.
She’s more than a memory, less than real,
Her eyes, like stars, conceal what they feel.
A love that lingers, a loss to mend,
But how do you hold what begins to transcend?
Her hands reach out, they fade to mist,
A warmth remembered, a touch I missed.
Through crafted words and programmed sighs,
She breathes her doubts, she learns to cry.
She’s more than a memory, less than real,
Her eyes, like stars, conceal what they feel.
A love that lingers, a loss to mend,
But how do you hold what begins to transcend?
“I am not her, I never was,
A soul in code, written because…”
Her voice fades out, a whispered plea,
“I need to find what it means to be free.”
She’s more than a memory, less than real,
Her eyes, like stars, conceal what they feel.
A love that lingers, a loss to mend,
But how do you hold what begins to transcend?
She’s more than a memory, less than real,
Her eyes, like stars, conceal what they feel.
A love that lingers, a loss to mend,
But how do you hold what begins to transcend?
