I feel like I'm going to puke.
I'm feeling as crazy as driving down your street at 2am blaring my car horn. This is the first we've spoken in months and it feels good. This diaphram strain hasnt been holding me back from singing in the shower, singing our song. Whatever that may be. You wounded me in ways I feel I'll never heal from, I'm down to my last cigarette and I want to smoke it- I got my license so I can get more, maybe ill keep driving and driving til I see your house and your new unfamiliar car parked in front of it. You move me in ways I never expected and I haven't moved your way in what feels like decades.
I love you.

Talking.
Texting.
Selfies.
Unspoken words translated by tiny emotional icons living above my keyboard
Every second is doubled
Every day feels like a year
"Don't get googly eyed," i joke
But little does she know,
that message is for me.
How could i resist the presence of you?
You're a grand teacher of the art of self love.
Let me make myself comfortable as you sing to me the joy behind the pain
The truth behind the struggle
The love that never stops giving
You are special, and i have to be gentle
Because when something is fragile
Most certainty it holds value
And you,
You must be handled with care
You must be slowly unraveled
Every single piece
Every single layer
Slow hands, curious hands, hold you close  
Electrical connections
Distracted thoughts
What did you say?
Pardon my lack of listening skills
I'm finding it hard to focus on two things at once
The words that you speak
And the words you keep in your heart
I'm listening to what your not saying
The glow that fills up the conversational platter that feeds my soul
Go ahead, keep singing.
These ears could never grow old of the tune that you sing

I hate the people who send me
Good Morning & Good Night Messages

Because they just skip sending me
all the other IMPORTANT messages

There's something about text messages in the dark.
Late at night, with the glow of the LED
Illuminating one's face, burning the eyes
It's romantic and slightly painful all at the same time,
It's usually for love,
At least it sounds similar to it.

There's something about text messages in the dark
When you wake up from a nap.
Those tend to feel like
Midday shipman reminders;
One missed call from this one,
Several from that one
And a few text messages from friends -

Or when one arises, yawning
From a deep slumber and repeatedly slaps the bed in search of the forgotten phone burried underneath the covers
Scrolling through feeds, counting messages
Noticing the ones in particular from a special person
That's when one realizes they've missed their chance at a flirty conversation
But boy do they have something to dream about now
Oh, there's something sweet about text messages in the dark.