blue light illuminates the soft planes of your face,

peach fuzz outlined in cerulean radiation glow,

and your fingers, like baby grand hammers, play

a two-tone scale across the keys. i am in awe

of the language you speak, wordless, scrubbed down

to a pair of symbols, just two. ones and ohs can make

every word in the human language. the world

can be doubly recreated. sitting here,

watching poetry unfurl on your screen as

the indigo surrounds us both, two figures, reclined,

cheek on arm on shoulder, i come to believe

                                                           it’s true.