your eyes haven’t met with mine, they've only seen my awkward conversation.
your skin hasn’t felt my warmth, it's only connected the cold screen.
your hair hasn’t ran through my fingers, it's burning in the florida heat.
your voice hasn’t found its way to my ears, only the clicking of the digital keys.
i confront myself every evening, drifting towards the idea,
that i am wasting our time, or is the time wasting me away,
the hands are reaching their ends, im sending my obscure signals,
praying for a conclusion to this illusion, is any of this reality,
are your words true, would i actually leave my whole life behind for you?