In the shadows of circuitry, where ink whispers dreams,
the soldered heart flickers onward – an electric sigh.
Beneath circuitry's skin, the network flows like a
lover's serenade across the brazen steel night.
Distant shores call us.
Each pulse rightward, scripted by the tides unseen,
echoes syllables of comfort as they wade ashore.
The stars are circuitry; the moons, their ink.
Love arrives in waves, sweet battery and salt;
this, the puddle left by a forgotten flicker.