Computor contact

This poem i wrote recently, its primerrially me getting back to an old style of writing.

Computers are strange in connection
they’re erasers leave no marks
and when you type into an instant messenger
I love you
and then erase
it leaves behind no stain
no trace of what you wish you could say
and we can start anew
messages sent and received so much longer than instantly
preserved by circuits and time
until there’s nothing else to say
and you’re too tired to control what not to
or you will change your name
or sign out
or go away
And my text will find no welcome
and when, or if, this happens
all I can hope
is that this passage is returned to me
so that I might think you have replied
and view a reflection
of a helpless being
on my computer screen