I am the last romantic
in the midst of digital chaos,
while love
navigates through algorithms
and bodies
become data
in the vast global network.

I still dream
of handwritten letters,
of the tangible touch
that slips between fingers
on touch screens,
where everything vanishes
with a swipe.

I sing of impossible loves,
in times of liquid loves,
where real encounters
are increasingly rare,
and words,
even in the most beautiful declarations,
get lost in the noise
of incessant notifications.

But I persist,
I am the last romantic
in a world that has unlearned
to wait.

I gaze at the moon,
which remains the same,
and wonder if the love
I feel for you
can still withstand
the next update...