Strictly unmentionable content
wrapped in a careful blanket of contagious lies,
we only kiss in a thick, contaminating haze.
And you only reciprocate on Thursday between 6 and 10;
the vector is quickly forgotten.
We slip through closed doors and colorless daydreams,
communicating in 160 words or less like Mr. Mayor--
so publicized are our most intimate declarations.
Having grown old and apathetic, our tryst has come to my enlightenment
and I forgive you:
Your colors are black and white;
I dare you to claim more.
We will never speak in full sentences
as we did in innocent and ancient days past
Living on physical exchange and recognizing the entropy of the cause--
our love, briefly stated, is porn.
