Have I ever told you that I love the sound of you typing?
The way your fingers move fast,
The way they hit a key at an exact moment,
The way they sound like the undertow of your life story of a symphony,
The click-clicks the sound of rain hitting my window on nights i miss you.

Every finger has a story.
Every key born to tell it.

Watching the way your eyes move along with the screen, you never had to look down.
Watching the way your hair would start to fall like a delicate fabric made of silk.
Watching the way you bite your lip because the good part is coming and it’s the big one.

You are a dictionary.
An arsenal of machine gun words
A pile of freshly pressed paper
An array of typewriter fonts
A piece of paper of the words you don’t know.

You are an endless cycle of words i would read correctly.
You are the thuds of thunder that i’m not scared of.
You are the taps of lyrics and poems.
You are an everlasting arrangement of clicks,

And I, I could listen for hours.