I feel like it's not ok to write a poem about texting like when poets first dared to write of the telephone it must have seemed so modern so shallow so empty.
And then I think
it must be communication
itself a step removed from the source
the act of conveying a message
about the mechanism of conveying messages
it's all so meta I want to sleep forever
but you know, in a good way
sometimes I think I'll lose my mind
if I have to reply to a text
please for the love of god
call me
call me
let me hear your voice
so I can be silent
and let my lips touch and eyes close
halfway sink into myself
the way I do when I think
how beautiful this existence
where nothing lasts
and even identical things are not identical
I want to cry how perfect
to feel so small
please for the love of god
let me be small
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