It’s safe behind the glare of your computer screen
Or atop the smooth surface of your sleek, touch-screen phone.
There you sit, broadcasting your feelings to the world,
Your love and admiration barreling along optic fiber cables
Where they fester, stagnant, on the walls of anonymous friends.
But I prefer the old-fashioned form of communication–
The you and I —
Where your voice meets my ear
Where butterflies well up before the opening of a door
Where your hand brushes the small of my back,
Generating raw electricity, naked currents.
For me, I want your fingers nesting in my in-between places
Your leg draped sleepily over mine as we slowly slide into slumber,
Limbs wrapped, beneath mounds of pillow and blankets
Haphazardly strewn across my bed.
The world cannot know this;
This communiqué only exists where your moment and my moment
Intersect and merge
And become tangled and twisted in the hope
That they need not be free again.
So, love, remove the monitors and the click clack of keys
Throw away the user guides and the wi-fi
Because I don’t need the world to know,
I just need you to know
And I want to tell all of this to you