Length

*I wrote a poem a few years ago called Distance. The first few lines are a piece of it. The rest of the poem is reworked into this one. It’s sort of a sequel and expansion on the original that’s posted on here. The title is just another reference to the poem. Use the site’s search bar and type “Distance” to get to the original. In this, the person isn’t so far anymore physically, but emotionally they are. You just don’t know what you’re doing anymore. You don’t know if you have a chance or if you ever have.*

 

“The more I miss you, the worse it all feels.

The taste of your lips always felt surreal.

My heart aches for days we won’t spend apart.

The distance between us tears at my heart.”

Words I’ve written before that have never rung more true.

Well except for the taste.

I’ve never been so lucky to have that grace.

The distance is shorter but it feels even further.

The more I think of you, the worse it hurts.

The more I miss you, the more I question.

Why?

Why don’t we let ourselves break the distance.

We’re closer than before yet even further apart.

With no one to stop us, yet we don’t even start.

I still look wearily out the window late at night.

Like I think you’ll show up.

Like I think I’d really leave and we’d disappear somewhere.

Away from it all like we probably should.

I see the stars and wonder why we’re not out there under them,

Why we’re not dancing in the glow of the moonlight.

I’m wishing you were here every night.

I do ache for days we won’t spend apart.

I guess I won’t let myself make them reality.

But when I talk to you, I don’t know what’s real.

The way you control me,

The way you spellbind me,

It all feels too surreal.

I never want to lose those moments.

When I believe in love again.

When the distance doesn’t exist.

But is your love real?

Or another figment of my imagination.

Would it last if I tried to let it?

All I know that’s true is what I think of you.

And that this distance is a hell to go through.

I’m used to the days of being alone.

Days with my fading heart latching on to what feels like errant memories.

Because the time I spend with you feels to perfect to be.

Late at night as I lay down to sleep,

All I think of is how I feel for you.

Do you feel it too?

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