Have you seen

amongst this square and empty screen

the thoughts? Bouncing and careening off the walls, then

floating by on whispy clouds

 

Nothing has been tangible

No cohesive joining together in a way to tell you

how I am

what I've been up to

(you'd have to come to tea for that)

 

I would miss this place

except for that its make believe

Devised space to create the illusion of connection

which it does in its own way

(I cannot argue that)

 

More than missing this space

I miss the block of text

the current date stamp

A sort of to do list checked off for a chunk of time.

 

And I miss the words

Mine,

 and then yours

weaving together and blending

becoming snapshots of moments

A photo album of moods.