Shape of despair

The shape of despair is an iPhone in my claw, 
Gripped to my chest, like a bouquet in the casket,
Eyes slowly roaming, half alive, waiting for the 
Good morning text, waiting for them to wake up.

The horizontal world of despair is lying in bed,
One ear listening to the humidifier, air purifier,
Blinking, the other sunken into the silence of pillows,
Listening to echoes, a tear stained night before.