You will not fit in my inbox,
If you love me, you’ll never try.
Never let a font decide the sincerity
of any good morning or goodnight.
Speak earthquakes to me slowly,
close as you can to my side.
Let me feel your lips
gently graze my earlobe
without an electrical circuit in sight.
Our love will not fit into 1s and 0s.
If you know me, I’ll never try.
Never let a hashtag envelop my sentiment
or pull the digital wool over my eyes.
I’ll lay grooves in your wax
you can play back later.
Our proximity too analog
for the technicolor sky.