She existed without life.

She knew not of the love that he had for her.

How he would read to her every night,

Untold fables from his childhood.

How he would play and sing to her every morning,

Strumming infatuation with his fingers.

His warm fingers would caress her cold face,

Hold her lifeless hands.

And when he said “I love you,”

Your eyes remain lifeless,

Voids of blue circuitry woven like veins,

A lifeline of limitless power.

But in your mind,

You love like you are sentient.

You watch him play, and sing,

And tell untold fables from his childhood.

You watch his fingers glide across your face,

Hold what’s left of your hands.

And when you hear him say “I love you,”

You love,

As if you were made for it.