You Don't Send Me Emails

YOU DON'T SEND ME EMAILS
July 7, 2005

You don't send me emails.
You don't write me love poems.
You do bring me candy,
and spend time when you're randy,
and take me on long and romantic trips.

I remember when you couldn't wait to write me
or to read me on the net.
Your computer was my home and when
we could, we'd sit and chat
when I was in America way back then,
but you don't send me emails any more.

It used to be so funny to read your written word
and I'd save every letter you ever wrote;
every story, every poem, every little note.
I lived for your emails every day.

I remember all the phone calls;
all the rooms where we would chat.
I recall every story we ever wrote.
There were Freddies that we'd do
and games we'd play with Blinky
and the yarns you'd thread for me
about your past
but you don't send me emails any more.

Although you do bring me flowers
and you tell me that you love me, and
you don't forget to surprise me now and then;
you don't write me love poems;
you don't send me emails any more.