A typist

I’m afraid that this is just typing and not writing and if it was writing it would not sound so much like typing because all I can hear are the clicking and clacking and thump-thump-thump. Is that a heartbeat? Or is it just my finger’s pulse? I cannot tell because I have to write this sentence. Then this one. And so on until you and I both reach the end, an end that doesn’t look much different than this, but hopefully reads better and is less winding and makes you think of me because I’m thinking of you, and I don’t want to stop because it’s a nice thing to think about, as I’m sure you know because you’re you and that’s why I’m thinking about you, but all yous will be no more, all sentences will have their periods, even the ones that look like they’re about to go on and on and on because that’s all they know how to do but then they don’t quite suddenly.