Like the harvest chaff
Auburn tinged
My last line to you
And your lips on my lips
Is in pieces, pixels of pain
Flying right off the screen
Blown up
With a cursory click

We hit send
Simultaneously
An improvised, two-fingered
Symphony
Your last message
I thought you understood
Smiling sadly and waving
As it breezed by
On a web of crossed wires
And lost kisses
And maybe I did
Understand
But I bit my lip