Digital

You’re my favourite poet
I tell him in
An imagined–
quiet
vague
disguise

The LED flashes
Cyan
And our words matter only
as much as
the screen that glows
A white separation

We are voiceless?

I had the Holy Internet
Tell me that we are each other’s
kryptonite
So I let it set

only because we are digital

And this note on an app
Tapped with letters
Drawled in blocks

What do glowing
alphabets mean?

We are voiceless
to each other

Bukowski never angrier
But only in my head

Written on Google Keep

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