I unwrap the plastic
from your caramel
coated body; you're a bit
nutty, but that's how I like
it

You tickle the tips
of my ribs, leaving
me gasping for air
before the moon
sets

You're on the other
side of the screen,
pixelated, in and out;

stuck in place,

my dear
lost signal

There's no
cure for what
ails; I'm afraid
this is our lot

two chickpeas

in a dystopian pod

Yet

my lips do not
refrain from pursing
into a pair of moist
rosebuds;

desperately
awaiting your

sunshine ***.