Our text messages tell the tale of our romance.
New emojis create new pages in our narrative.
Every “good morning, my darling”,
each “good night and sweetest of dreams”,
all the back and forth of adoration between us –
they all cover my palms in gold,
and while my fingers do not tremble,
my heart tells an alternate tale.
This organ smiles, weeps, and gazes at
what seems too good to be true,
a true romance for once in my life,
all the while tripping and falling down
every stairwell in the city of Los Angeles.
I just might get hit by a car still
without even being distracted by
what’s on my phone screen.