Not You

Wipe left; swipe right. Moist promises on tap.
I sit, knees drawn up. The dark is quiet,
my screen a window to another room.

Thick black hair, chocolate orbs, fill the room.
I search for your tanned skin and beard. I tap
keyboard hot key. Not you. Faces quiet.

Obsession hums—buzzes, tears up the quiet
dark walls. Shield shame; break into my room.
Swipe right on a close match, a vein to tap.

Lover, tap the window of my quiet room.

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