Cyber Fools

What is love but a game played by fools?  Not just the sight of her hair or the virtual smell of the tea.  Not just the lust of the pink and the imagined perfume.  Not the chair, not the nipples. But the eyes.  The eyes that tell me to behave and to stop going where I want to go.  Inside a mind that I cannot share or see or touch.  Inside a distant smile.  Inside an innocent grin.  She loves me.  I see the pixels fly away from my screen and into my heart and I don’t understand them.  I play the game and I get caught.  I hurt but I continue like the ten year old who doesn’t want to leave things unsaid because unsaid things pile up like dirt on an old love song.  She is there for me, on demand, satisfying the darkest fantasies of my damned Aquarian nature.  She loves me, she loves the picture and the money and the laughs and the possibilities and yet she is missing my strength, my arms around her and my lips on hers.  She’s there, just there, waiting for a chance to change me again and show me those multi-colored socks and her green eyes.  The green eyes of music.

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