Through me you used to create magic.Together we’d spend hours just sitting
on your maroon polyester couch in silence, hand in hand looking into one another’s eyes.
But now you seem to have broken tradition,
Broken down our sacred temple of communion.
Instead of writing with me, you now are a product of modernity-
Conforming just like everyone else.
You used to love writing in pencil,
but it seems now that you’d rather not at all.