Superstitiously Sublime

I'm in love with a machine, it's my phone, just a text...I love her more than anyone, she's exquisitely the best.
I cannot see this special girl, this one who chats to me...we are not allowed a single visit, not even out for tea.
I never hear her talk but I know just who she is...a gentle gleed soul with a voice just like a kiss.
All the same I know she's there, and I know how much she cares...so to me it's still love, but with much more of a flare.
See this love is forbidden, it should of died by this time...but it burns just as brightly, superstitiously sublime.
Knows no sense of time, of seasons, of space...exists in every moment of our lives that we chase.
Winter can come, spring pop up soon...but this romance still exists in the words that we bloom.
This passion never ends and will follow to our graves...then exist in the next life of the breath that we crave.
Eternal entrapment of my heart is to she...to the text on my screen that encapsulates me.
Eternal my love for this woman sublime...to the words on my phone, on the screen, line by line x