I live in a world of untouchable things.
My music is on my iPod, sealed and closed and only mine. I cannot run my hands down the keys, feel the vibrations on my skin or see the look on the musicians face.
The mail I get is still mail put with an e at the start. The letters I get I can’t hold I can’t love, of let my tears drip down on their words.
They aren’t penned by the person of whom I have received.
Books are forgotten their text on a screen. Without pages or spines or a smell. They don’t have fingerprints of dog eared corners , wet spots or paper bookmarks. They tell the same story or at least the same words but not of the history of the readers before you
And my friends we don’t talk, we send messages. Some containing no words at all. Just letters and funny faces. “ lol “ long past are the days when we would use language as an art rather than just a form of communication. The words don’t ring for they are flat on a screen and I can’t hear or feel or love them.
Even art I can’t feel. It is made without canvas and paint. Gone are the days of a brush sweeping across a long white paper. All I hear is a click. My hands don’t get messy and stained with pigment.
So in this untouchable world I sent you something you can touch. Something that is real something that you can relate to. I sent you my heat. Take it and know that it is the real deal. hold my heart it's real. it's true.