I feel strange working here at her laptop,

A gift to aid, to prompt, to propel,

when I use it I feel connected to her,

she is here with me,

part of me,

but what now,

when that connection breaks,

when communication, desire, thoughts, and understanding, fail?

When the only thing left to do,

is block the exits,

throw away the key,

so you don’t run to her,

follow her,

or stalk her,

So you don’t explain in perfect logic and rational (with diagrams),

how wrong she is.

You block the exits because it’s easier to go crazy, scream, and breakdown, alone.

Here,

under my fingers,

in front of my eyes,

is her laptop,

a gift to me.

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