I want you to remember
That to write
Is to express yourself,
The flicks on your n's
And the loops on your f's
Show me the inner workings of your mind.
When she sent that letter,
There should have been tears on the page,
You should have been able to see
The corners had been folded and torn,
And the paper was *****, crumpled,
And covered in coffee stains.
You couldn't see any of that, though,
Because she chose to send it to you
In the form of a small series of lights,
Accumulated on a screen
To mimic a cold,
Soulless version of herself.
Maybe it's because she didn't want you to know
What was actually going on.