This is a drunk text disguised as a poem.
A way to send words,
wireless,
without attachment to the sentiment I’ve buried inside them.
These are whispers in the dark of night,
raindrop dodging digital missives,
a backlit beckoning,
meant to enhance the curl at the corner of your lip.
Because it suggests I’m thinking of you
Wine fuzzy slipper stumbler
wondering which part of you would be communicating
with which part of me
If you were closer than the other side
Of the line.