Less than three denotes a heart
showing love between two teens.
Texting back and forth with words
created out of broken and squished words.
Back with “ilu,” “ilysfm,” “ily,” “ilusm.”
And forth “i<3u,” “ilym,” “ilylc,” “bilu.”
Outsiders don’t understand the slang
but they don’t know,
they do not need to.
Only the two who are in love.

I see the light shine on your face.
You look down and then you giggle.
I wonder what has made you smile…
“That’s for me to know,”
you say.
Okay then.

I hear the chime again.
Then the smile,
and a frenzied tapping.
I can’t help but roll my eyes.
And you don’t notice—
but I knew you wouldn’t.

You look up and pretend to be
engaged in what’s around.
But I know why your foot’s tapping
impatiently.
Finally another chime,
like funeral bells

I’m watching you,
but I don’t think you notice.
How is it,
that the ones who are not present,
have become more present
than the ones who are?

Haven't felt it in a while
That tearing inside and out
The feeling of an impaled heart
The breath coming to a halt
As your name and message
Flashed across the screen

I don't know what we are
and I certainly don't know what we're becoming.
All I know is that you have her,
and really... that's fine.

Really.

I'll sit here, relishing in our 4 hour text conversations
trying to decipher where exactly we stand
until I finally realize it doesn't matter.

At least we're standing.

Again my eyes flicker down to the screen in front of me.
I wait.
Every few seconds I check again.
Just waiting
For the sound that brings so much hope,
So much love.
Still you haven't replied.
I try to forget but it never leaves my mind.
My eyes keep returning to the vacant glow.
Repeatedly I check,
Aware of my desperate futility.
I will wait
For you
Forever.

I texted you.
You texted back.
I was so suprised,
I nearly dropped my phone.

Here's the problem though,
I tend to
Over analyze  
Over scrutinize
Over think

I must have apologized
For bothering you
Five
Ten
Twenty times

Plus,
It was me texting you
You never texted me.

And now I don't know what to think.
You make me happy
Honestly,
I think I like you

Which is a problem,
Because
If I like someone
It's usually time to
Push them away

But with you
I can't
I can't
I can't
And I don't know why

So if I'm bothering you,
I'm sorry

If I'm not.....
*Thank you

i've been texting people for a connection.
our bodies search for vibrations,
short and electric but its an elaborate show.
who are these folks behind the curtains?
and through these notes, i am certain.
i cant write anything of substance.
i keep seeing your name and i try to change it
into something insignificant.
but that which we call a rose,
right?
i keep trying to escape it
but my handwriting is no legible font.
no respectable medium to my professor.
i cant keep in between the margins
how would they know the amount?
did i plagiarize the way i wrote
"I miss you." ?
so, we type.
remove the writer. its about the content.
did i cite your absence right?
is this journalism, biography or *******?
it must not true, ****.
but my fingertips reach
short distances on the keys
of my devices
and we type.
hashtag notice us, hashtag test us back,
are we connected yet?

i text so much. i began to hear the tweet sound ..
but there is no message ..