What’s the sequel/
2 being/
yer intellectual equal?/
Does it have meaning?/
Do U/
need a soul/
2/
help control?/
Can a brain play a big enuff part/
when there’s no heart?

I thot of U 2day./
That’s what they all say./
Will they ever do anything about it?/
I doubt it./
Thinking/
thots,/
like drinking,/
ought/
2 create/
more than a headache.

Words/
Cyrano heard/
dropped by RoxAnn/
could crush a man,/
he said,/
but only if she remember-ed/
those/
hopes/
she dropped lightly,/
4 naught,/
which he mightly/
caught.

Y does the scent of curry/
set a heart aflurry?/
How can Woman/
impact Man/
where he don’t tan?/
Do I dare say/
I feel that way?/
Will being quiet/
calm my cardioriot?

Does my poetry scare U/
as I bare U/
my soul,/
thinking I’ve lost control?/
Or do U/
stay sedate,/
knowing I write not 2 woo,/
but simply communicate?/
Which reader rU?

This is the type of morning/
where I roll over and say,/
as I gaze in dawn’s glowing,/
“Please stay!”/
And U do, knowing/
a caress/
of tenderness/
starts a day/
>ok!

If u awake/
and feel amiss,/
and, make no mistake,/
seek 4 late night bliss,/
imagine me, 2,/
thinking of U./
No pressure at all,/
but if U want 2 call,/
please do.

It’s true,/
it wasn’t U who/
I tried 2 woo/
with poetic video,/
but your pretty,/
pert friends!/
Pity/
it didn’t go/
2 those ends,/
and download./
But U can tell them so!

U sighed: He/
was lovely/
in his physicality,/
and I saw/
a trace/
of melancholy,/
deep, raw,/
cross yer face./
Pity/
that he/
isn’t me/
who gets U and rites/
deep poetry.

A Night of Regret, a Morning of Shame:
A series of contexting poems written after a late-night conversation went awry.

5:34 a.m.
Here I am,/again,/with egg on my face,/being ignored back into my place./It’s just that I care,/really,/that put me there,/wwaiting. How silly/2 wait/so late!

5:46 a.m.
Please don’t tell me/U feel this way,/then leave me alone/because yer day/got 2 busy 2 phone/or text./Don’t leave me alone,/a wreck/wondering/if I’m blundering.

6:15 a.m.
Hand on phone,/I’m yet disheartened,/waiting alone,/senses sharpened./I lie in anticipation/4 the vibration/from U 2 me;/vain libations/never setting me free.

6:22 a.m.
Every time/the phone shivers/after a rhyme/that can’t be delivered,/showing a closed envelope,/I hope/in vain./It’s insane,/but I still/thrill/and get a chill.

6:35 a.m.
Within my vexed,/tormented non-deliverable texts,/I manage 2c/one 2 me,/from sleepy/thee./All pain is forgotten!/The morn is not rotten/nor sad./U make it glad!

6:45 a.m.
Why be sorry?/I just wanted 2 say/I hoped U were ok/after yer long,/busy, emotional day!/(I/don’t know y;/I’m just wired that way!)/I sent out a yelp/2 help./OK?