Whispers of a poet's heart

Like winter amidst a natural spring There is only so close I can get No matter how much I wish to permit To anyone I have met- sort of speaking Who remains at some quantifiable distance Both in geography and metaphorically Which creates an unfathomable chasm That is just too axiomatic to honestly ignore Not all things are made to be compatible The clacking of these keys isn’t my voice Parsing words in lines does nothing for my ears That used to appreciate the nuances of tones While watching the flutter of eyelashes As real people connect within a real language Missing micro cues affirmed our understandings Even more emphatically when it came to emotions That are patently obscured now in black and white Amongst a deafening universe of ones and zero's I’ll never acclimate to machines like it’s human Nor accept it works like old snail mail Despite the…

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