Sometimes I crave to write just to feel my keyboard brush against my fingertips
I agree with their word of choice with the press of a comma
A small betrayal when they rewrite our secrets

But I crave that deep ache that turns my bones brittle
That heartbreak plea for more when the space bar sings

"No more," My tongue pleas

But the stories are tangling around my body like a noose
the stitches in my skin are reopening with the press of a button
and at last, I feel free.

_________

"What have you done."

Pressing save with a confidence the tongue will always lack.

"Something you should've."