She is my affection.
I feel her touch
underneath the covers
in the dark of night,
when only moonlight shines,
the view of her face fragmented.
She is my affection.
I see only a screen,
a conversation of green and white.
Last message is mine,
sent three hours ago,
“Hey, you there? It's been a while.”
She is my affection,
but I can't see her
through the club crowd
and obnoxious flashing lights.
I can see another though,
A bored girl under neon.
She was my affection,
but I want to see the sun,
and hold hands in public.
I want to leave the light on,
talk hours into the night,
and leave the nightlife for the lonely.
-Zero
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