It was just an online romance-
e-mail murmurings of love;
imaginary musings,
from somewhere up above.

It was feelings spoke with hope,
the ramblings of a poet;
searching one's own heart,
we're the only ones that know it.

When did poetry erupt,
into poems now laced with pleasure;
when did the words one said,
exceed one's own true measure?

When did friendship turn to love?
when did it escalate?
is it predictability,
or a random act of fate?

It was just an online romance -
with poetry, its base;
until  it changed to something else,
and now, we have to face.