You slide into my inbox
and I roll my eyes
thinking how our ancestors
would roll in their graves
under wildly blooming roses
the kind of fragrant bouquets
they gave one another
on a first date
a gesture of courtship and respect

they would be so disappointed
in the way their Shakespearean love
has devolved
into self-involved
narcissistic
lazy digital foreplay

you can save your DM
for someone else;
I will continue waiting
for my rose.