Reclaiming my Technology on a Sunny Afternoon

Whose keys these are I think I know.
His hands are always on them though;
He will not see me lying here
To watch one more downloaded show.

My lingerie must think it queer
To lie without affection here
Between the sheets but not awake
Though online news is always near.

I give his hips a little shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of keyboard strokes and talk of cake.

The room is lovely, dark, and deep,
But he has blogs he needs to keep,
I may as well just go to sleep,
I may as well just go to sleep.