We're forgetting the art of talking on the phone for hours and hours
It was better than texting because you could hear each other's voices
in near real time
without having to show oneself
Now you can hide your voice too
and overthink everything you say

It's texting or video chat
You're either the most remote
or as close as you can get
from a near human reaction

You're yourself after you think long and hard?
Not who you trained to be on impulse
Who trained me I wonder?
Me, commercials, parents, environment, or destiny

It's my goal to be a fractured self
that can immerse themselves in the entrails
of any one of these cubbyholes

Text message- barely lit fingers thought of you

i just want to be the person you write poetry about.
not even good poetry.
the poetry of 1 AM text messages
that try to spell out love in sloppy metaphors about stars and eyes
the poetry that swells up in your throat while you're tired so when you speak it into my voice mail it's just "you're so beautiful and wow i'm so in love with you"
the poetry of rearranged letter magnets on the refrigerator
the poetry of small notes in jackets,
half rhymed abandoned words you scribble out between classes and forget in your backpack.
i want to be the person you spend hours scratching your head, tugging at your hair
trying to frame "you're so amazing and i'm waiting for you to realize i think you're so special" into beautiful flowing words.
i'm just saying
write me poetry and i will dance
like dust on your tabletops
glimmering in the light of the sun

i woke up one morning
and left.
i needed to get out
so i booked a flight
and left.

that day
as i ran
you texted.
you wanted to see me that night.
i told you i booked a flight
and left.
you stopped texting.

i ran faster.

seat 10b
felt the loneliest.
i cradled my journal
and forced my eyes open;
if i fell asleep
i knew i'd surely
dream of you.

i didn't want to escape
into my dreams
because i knew
eventually
i'd wake up in a
nightmare.

i stared at the empty seat next to me
seat 10a
and imagined your form
uncomfortably cuddled up
in a cramped space.
you'd be sleeping
listening to Bowie.
i wouldn't be able to sleep,
i'd be staring at you.

this is why i booked a flight.
and left.

you're everywhere.
i'm drowning in your memory.  
you're my only dream,
but you're too much
of a nightmare.

I ****** up.
I mean like I really ****** it up this time.
I don’t know what I said wrong
But
I’m sorry.
I’d pray you aren’t mad at me
If I believed in a god.
But I don’t
So I just look for people to blame and
Oh look!
I choose myself.
God.
This is the worst.
I’m going to be alone forever.

Oh.
Never mind.
He texted back