Your Hands on My Keyboard
I felt you before I saw you.
A double entendre poem that flirts with meaning—innocent on the surface, deliciously suggestive underneath. Tease the mind with wordplay (no explicit words or body parts allowed!).A little poetry challenge tagged by Mark Crutchfield 🌻🌻 I hope you’ll enjoy!
You arrived mid-task,
through my screen
first soft flicker of something
cooler,
lighter,
unexpected.
I felt you before I saw you,
a shiver in the processor,
a pop-up
on the edge of vision,
You there?
Let me in.
Permission?
You didn’t wait.
Just appeared
first as a cursor blinking,
a little tease,
hovering where I couldn’t click.
I opened a tab for you.
Let you load
wherever you wanted..
my desktop,
my browser,
the corner of my monitor,
the space between open windows.
Cold and bright,
a contradiction
I couldn’t debug,
only watch.
Just refresh.
Icons still glowed
folders,
files,
the steady work.
But you were different.
Temporary.
Electric.
Leaving quickly,
strike of light across my screen,
a font I couldn’t un-see.
Your touch found my keys
without asking
alien pressure,
a click that wasn’t mine.
I felt you in
the delete,
the spacebar
held too long.
The sun through the window
insistent,
golden,
sure.
You were brief.
Electric.
Gone before
I could save you,
leaving only a cached trace,
a history I couldn’t clear.
Screen-saved but changed.
The system returned to normal
But something in my cache stayed open,
waiting for another ping
from you
not-bookmarked,
deleted too soon.
The rain came down outside.
Sunshine ‘n water
a strange brief marriage
of elements
that shouldn’t mix.
And on my screen,
between one tab and the next,
your weather touched mine.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough
to leave a mark
no delete key could reach.
Call it a sun shower or whatever.
I call it the only time
my keyboard ever felt like
Your hands.
It’s just for fun. Join the challenge if it attracts you.
Your Hands on My Keyboard (Python Edition)
I was mid-compile
when you slipped
into the session.
No warning.
No import statement.
Just—
>>> hello?
in the console.
I checked my code.
Everything looked normal.
Variables behaving.
Loops looping politely.
Then the cursor blinked again.
Not mine.
Hovering there
like an uninvited thread
waiting to execute.
I typed carefully:
if user == "you":
grant_permission = False
But the interpreter hesitated.
Strange.
Somewhere deep in the runtime
a process had already started.
You were running.
Without sudo.
My screen flickered
like a poorly documented module
that somehow still works.
You touched the keys
one by one
like you were iterating
through my functions.
for key in keyboard:
press(key)
Delete lingered.
Spacebar held longer than necessary.
I tried to regain control.
try:
maintain_composure()
except Exception:
pass
But the program had changed.
You were a variable
that refused to stay local.
A rogue object
living happily in global scope.
And when I tried to clear memory—
del you
Python only smiled politely
and replied:
NameError: object still referenced
You vanished after that.
No stack trace.
No clean exit.
Just a faint line in the log file
and a process somewhere
still quietly running.
I checked the terminal again.
Cursor blinking.
Waiting.
Like the system knew
you might return
for another execution.
And this time,
I might not
interrupt the loop.
pm,
you manage to tell a love story in digital language, in a metaphor that is cursors and clicks and keys. Your final line is powerfully emotive, so strong it leaves your reader reeling. It leaves your reader wondering what it would feel like to be touched by such unimaginable, such human, hands.