Poems About Falling in Love Over Facebook


Do you sit and stare at my name the way I stare at yours
with that damned spot, that damned green dot
next to your name? Seeing you online
means we made it another day.
Another day, a simple victory,
more meaningful
to us than most — 
but harder is — without a word exchanged — 
we kept our bargain, let the wall stand.

God knows who you’re talking to, but I hate them.


You who were my supplicant, begging
for everything I had to give, every harsh word, every
sweetness: I crawl toward you now, praying
like you were a god.


Did I slide under your skin the way you slid under mine?
Or are you free, moving moment to moment without
my shadow dodging your steps? I am human enough
to hope you are as miserable as I am.


I am tired of being human. The future is here:
it should offer us something better. Make me a god,
make me the mother of an alien race, make me digital
entirely, uploading my heart and the way my breath caught
at the perfection of your vulnerability — the way my hands clenched
into fists at the sight of you kneeling — the way we knew each other,
intense, longing, furious. I knew your soul,
its darkness, its hunger, its need, and I shuddered to answer it.

I would have pulled my body apart piece by piece
to love you.


Mazes that confounded all others — we laughed at them.
We walked the tangled dichotomies of our existence
when we fit ourselves together it seemed
like the clearest of answers,
your psyche knotting into mine like it had always known the way, had always known
where home was.


I said goodbye, and you let me.
Let me say it;
let me go. Flawlessly, gracefully,
like you’d practiced it.
At the door I looked back and could no longer see you. Words fell
to the floor that were not mine, the very last remnants of what
I could allow myself to offer you — 
and you hit
that ‘heart’ button.
It felt like an ending.
I noted, not for the first time,
how carefully you had never said
love to me. Did you think
I wouldn’t notice? Was that
the one line that you wouldn’t cross?


I will never know what I was to you.
You never said it, and now
there’s that damn wall.
The things I was, the things I could have been: a momentary distraction
in the face of our glaring mortality — 
an interactive fantasy with a name — 
the soulmate you
turned away from.

I know how the rest of this goes: I will write
about you until my words are more real than the truth of you,
until my understanding of you becomes clouded
by distance and time as you move further
and further and further away.

I will see you
or twice
across crowded rooms
my heart stuttering at old images
that kept me company on those long nights.
My memory will drop your voice in my ear once again, your whispers dark
sweet and obscene.
I’ll embrace you, like any friend would do,
my fingers
itching for your throat.