Like termites,
they come out of the woodwork
chipper as ever
chip chip chipping away
at every good thing you post on the Internet.
They "like" your announcement and then
go out like fireflies at daybreak, silently
disappearing for another four years.
Like mosquitos,
they come around each summer
hungry for news
suck suck sucking the joy
out of every good thing you post on the Internet.
Weddings and babies and graduations draw them in -
like moths, they are drawn to the glowing faces
and follow you into the house.
Like wasps,
they hang around your sweetness
ready to strike
and sting sting sting you
if you leave a soft spot exposed.
And so we post only the honey,
knowing the flies only want one thing,
and leave the vinegar in the cupboard.
Like ants,
they carry pieces of you away:
Names and faces and birthdays
crunch underfoot like so much sand.
They come out of the woodwork,
these "old friends" of ours -
acquaintances, coworkers, followers -
when we have something to share,
to be proud of.
They come out to "like" us,
to see the spectacle -
to live vicariously through our vacation -
to share proudly in our accomplishments -
as if they were there
the whole time.
It is hollow, this family tree.
The termites have carved out pieces
with likes and comments and shares
on birthdays and graduations
but never call
or even text
or think about me.
When you knew me,
I was a caterpillar.
You wouldn't recognize me now,
completely metamorphosed,
a different person entirely
than the one who cared
about what you think of me.