Typing.…
You’re online.
I’m online.
We’re on…line.
Connected for a brief moment through a virtual reality
Our retinas reflect each others words.
I feel closer to you. I pine.
I somehow feel a flutter at the thought of you looking at your phone as I look at mine.
And yet… you’re not texting me.
I texted you.
My words were the last to know.
Still sitting their perched under your words
Dangling their feet in the empty space below.
So…why won’t you text me back?
Were my words not good enough?
Did the way I worded my words wear you off or worry you?
Perhaps I was too forward.
Perhaps it’s all too new.
Perhaps I’m being silly
You must be busy
Or you’re simply thinking about me too…
You’re still online.
I want to be where you are.
Want to sit right beside you holding hands with our hand helds
OFFLINE
I’ll stay here for a little while longer
Hover in this still born connection till it turns and breathes again to..
Typing…
I see you.
Typing..
I anticipate.
I wait.
My finger lingers over the light glow of my technological extension
Contemplating its next move, my mind an open glove in pursuit of that thought you’re about to drop and once you do I’ll make sure to put you in that waiting room too before my status turns to…
Typing…
You stop. You start..
You change with the status.
Typing… online…typing..online…typing… online…
Last seen today at 23:54.
Nothing. A connection gone with a flick of a finger.
It’s that easy. I’m left disconnected in my connection. Connecting dots in my mind with whys, wondering what happened. I lost you again.
I miss the days when our conversations would flow
We’d bounce back and forth like ping pongs on heat.
Our fingers tapping to steady tempos translating transient thoughts.
While always always..typing..
We’d type from morning till night.
I’d text you from today
You’d text me from yesterday.
Time was left impotent
Our fingers were our foreplay
Skipping through the alphabet to our heartbeats
Hardly thinking about what next to say
Rousing smiles with each send.
Sharing videos, music, pictures and poetry
Either way
We’d be typing.…
These days
Our love lays at our fingertips.
We tap screens to communicate our desires
Expect fires to grow in the vacuum of an app
And although sparks may fly, they die by a simple
Tap.