She sits there everynight,
different chair,
same screen.
All she does is wait for one word,
a simple phrase,
just to remind her that she's in his thoughts,
something so she'll know.
Thoughts flit across the keyboard,
while insecurity takes away her freedom.
"Girl, you're super cute...
...of course I still care."

Tiny feet march to a little heart,
for the small girl in his arms.
She breathes in to find him in her senses,
consuming her heart with corky words.
Oftentimes in her mind,
locked away and the key swallowed,
he's there
always with forever,
loving her.

I wish sometimes that I could read your mind,
pull out your thoughts and spread them on my floor,
a huge puzzle with pieces of all the same color,
make your lips speak what you're avoiding,
dig up the clay feelings you harbor,
sort them into categories.
Just to know where I stand with you.