The relationship was up and down, feeling like a seasaw
So I wrote this verse staring at my keyboard
She slashed my heart, as she split it into snippets
The ups and downs, smiles and frowns, shit had shifted
Running out of options, she wanted to erase me
I told her to return when she wanted to escape me
I wanted control and command, but she asked for space please
Couldn’t select all or press the apple a key
Shot caps through my heart and put it on lock
And made me feel numb as she dragged me off the dock
Although I was bold she was lenient like italics
The audacity for capacity, it was graphic
Her vibe was telepathic, her aora like a magnet
The body of an email with none of the attachment
Eyes were made of cameras, utterly panoramic
Bossom was the internet, for perverts and their antics
Mouth was the speakers as they blasted through the static
Brain was the hardrive, memory photographic
My language would damage and exceed her bandwith
She wanted to be a star, but she was only an asterisk

From the moment I logged on I knew it’d be long lasting
I put her on my lap and I felt a strong passion
When she was running low, I would be her outlet
As I wiped her a tears with a moist towelette
Had my back wherever I roamed, like wifi
Photobooth, I could see my past through her wide eyes
She was an apparatus I could tell my status
And she’d even listen when my friends tried to chat us
We listened to the same music, she had my heart scanned
And when I started one she loved my garage band
She even helped me with my homework, word
But we moved in quick time, then everything blurred
I became committed, then I became addicted
Too many secrets restricted encrypted
She told me I’m sorry but I need my space
I said what? No one uses Myspace
I read her face like a book, it was obvious
Tried to poke her, but her form springs anonymous
So my love was aborted and exported
I tried to her restart but all she did was force quit
Then I saw that millions of kids were using her, abusing her
Cruising her, cloning and reproducing her
She was a PC, but she was from personal
A generation obsessed with the virtual