An electronic note

Some write it with blood, I'm typing on screen,
As you promptly hit delete, at least your hands will be clean!
Some let their tears flow, washing their apology in part,
but on a back-lit LED display, interpreting the     gaps    will be hard.

Some sweat over small stuff, getting the penmanship right,
I'll let you change the fonts, but please don't let the message hide.
Some spray it with perfume, even my template is plain,
no fragrances left to haunt you, if this were to go down the drain.

Some cover in an envelope, I post unencrypted on the web,
even if they found you reading this, you can act ignorant and correct!
Some seal it with a kiss, I publish with a click of my mouse,
and now there's no backtracking, whether you admire or grouse.

Some make it so complex, but its so easy you see,
I'm so sorry that I hurt you, will you please forgive me?

Why dont I touch thee

Touch me not (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This may be seen as second part or continuation or new spin on  You can see, but mustn't touch.

Why don't I touch thee, let me count the ways;
I don't touch thee for sound reasons; pray, hear my case;
You are like a body of still water, that is clam, deep and godsend,
my touch will disturb and perturb you, with ripples that never end.

You are like a statuette of soft, but impressionist clay; perfect and untouched you're meant to be,
my touch will distort and disfigure you, with the impressions of an imbecile for all to see.  
you are like a gem that is crystalline and pure; delicate, shining and untainted,
my impure touch will stain you forever, with one of your facets now painted.

You are like a house of cards, that's just standing; each supporting the other -steady and fast,
my touch will crumble that composure, as you shatter under the weight of the memories past. 
You are like a touch-me-not flower, that's delicate, tempting and forbidden equal parts,
my touch will make you wither or shrink, and go forever in a shell, breaking many hearts.

but the forever reason I don't touch thee, I fear you are an illusion or a dream forlorn,
and my touching will make you disappear again, with me and my burnt fingers alone. 

She doesn't read me any more!

Facepainting (Photo credit: vlasta2)

She doesn't read me any more,
stopped following or keeping track;
What I wrote once, had made her sore,
so she barged ahead- without looking back.

Depriving me of her face, her locks, her looks,
of what she's writing, her blogs, her books,
her feelings she kept in guard before -
but now what's locked is ever more-

her words, profiles, her tracks in space,
her photos, poems, the change in face;
All I recall, she's driven to wipe,
vanishing from the net, disappearing from my life.

Fearing me as a stalker, guarding closely the door,
I hardly care, she doesn't read me any more!