I love the sound of a keyboard.

Does yours sound the same as mine? Do the letters twinkle and clatter like wind chimes, or are they matte and muted for the late nights you spend with me? I bet there are tiny spots on the keys where your fingerprints have become an indiscernible mess of rapid consciousness, because likewise they're here on mine. 

I'm sorry your heart is aching. I'm sorry you can't lean your head on my collarbone and absorb my affections. I'm sorry I don't have wings to fly to your country, and I'm sorry I can only be here for a little while. 

But I bet if you touch the cold glass before you, you can feel my hand against yours. 

I'm sending you kisses, and I'm sending you sweet thoughts, and I'm giving you my words so that you may remember them when the storm refuses to pass. 

I will be here to cradle you forever, and I know you will always do the same for me.

So let us remember that we can see the same stars from our windows, gaze at the same glowing moon, and know that there's someone far away we have loved and been loved by.  

And I thank you for giving me the time of night.