I’m on tinder, I’m on Brenda, I’m a serial offender
I swipe it right, for a night, but a text I’ll ill never sender her
My index plays the game too quick, for my mind to read a word
Finger right in digit slip for “pair pursuing submissive third”
A Doms not wrong, but it’s not my song, yet neither is this game
Will I spy with my little eye a lover in phones frame?
Am I just one flicking scroll away from a perfect match?
Or do I fish with un-baited hooks, preventing my perfect catch
Let me move from media, to tangible flesh and bone
Meets ups found in person not from entrapment on a phone
Hmmm… with words I can be witty, yet improves not my calling
Just give me time to bust a rhyme and my presence is enthralling
In coffee’s line I fail to find the perfect worded brew
Phone no frame for gorgeous dame, her post at end of que
Hearts aflutter, yielding stutter, small talks void within transaction
Tongue tied tattles, a voice that rattles, casualty of attraction
Lips tripping over pleasantries, hands fondling to find a tip
Distress is in the brew as I take that beauties sip
My heart resides in cups confides, swirling with my spoon
Dame not game for my name with fumbles found in swoon
Did she rate me, did she care, did she feel my fear?
Does she know my fluttered heart was beating tunes of queer?
Did love get easier or harder to find in this digital age??