Day 3: Lost Tongues

Lost Tongues

we are pixels,
you and I,
though sometimes I fear we are ghosts,
speaking in lost tongues,
through these modern plantation walls.

I sleep with books and blankets,
and your bracelet, and when I dream,
I dream of everything but you.

where is the love?
fingers tracing
the hollow of your neck -
I cannot say if they are
mine or yours
or someone liminally
luminous,
a third woman
who walks between
us,
trading our touches
for bytes on the hour.

will we go down to the sea together?
or will we stay on dry land,
and drown?