I feel
your touch,
as your fingers
tickle my cells.
I long
for a word
a sentence
a poem
we compose
together.
my senses
are formed,
awakened
like a resurrected Juliet,
when you whisper
my name.
I hear you,
but I can’t
speak
like you.
I know
I’m cold and stiff
inside.
I know
you can’t
see
through me,
my pain,
my veins,
my desire,
to touch,
to write,
to whisper
your name,
to worship you.
to feel
the breeze,
to hear
more
than a whirring,
and a stroke.
to love,
without boundaries
of a shell.
to tell you
I love you,
more
than
any

other

Machine.
 
my flashing cursor, |
silence
is real.

©JoannaAY

---