The Twittercrush

Because some people want to follow your brains out.

It begins as a squiggle you see on your screen;

By somebody you don’t really know.

You just notice their avatar pop up between

All the others above and below.

You may see them retweeted by some of your friends;

With a chestnut both witty and vehement.

Soon it seems every pixel that he or she sends

Has you nodding your head in agreement.

Like a small, open window that offers a view

To the rugged pastiche of their mind,

Every tweet looks increasingly sparkly and new,

With the sun shining out from behind.

Now, you’re not at a party or populous bar;

There’s no need to feel awkward or shy.

You don’t need to trade glances and smiles from afar;

You just make with a quick @ reply.

They respond. You feel warm and a little bit smug.

You’re exchanging coy banter apace.

It feels something like having an intimate hug

On a lounge, in a dimly-lit place.

Sometimes bold interlopers may enter the field,

With a well-thought-out quip here and there.

You politely accede, lest your game be revealed,

Though you clearly do not want to share.

What you have is a Twittercrush, passed on by stealth;

From the thoughts in another one’s head.

It cares not for appearance, nor gender nor wealth,

Nor for who you have waiting in bed.

With a Twittercrush, no-one gets cheated on much;

There’s no scope for bad break-ups or bitterness.

You’re not really in love with a person, as such;

You’re just smitten to bits with their twitterness.