On Messaging


Friends. Just Friends sharing thoughts.
Private lives spilling onto the keyboard,
Bit by bit, dripping invisible ink into waves of frequencies.

Lines. A combination of simple, real thoughts.
Words running into each other,
Hurrying to finish before the other takes a breath.

Eyes. Blurred or Dilated?
Expectantly she looks, waiting, holding her breath,
(ping.. ping ping ping…. ping)
A string of lines, haphazard, but drippping with emotion.

What do you want?
What do you want out of this mutual exchange of platonic ideas?
‘Just a friend… A friend to listen.’


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