It was always there, an ocean between us. But now? It feels like galaxies. Like I’m light years from home and can never find my way back.
Name the miles, give me a number.
I’d walk them all just to get to you.
Everyone thinks I’m so open,
so vulnerable and easy to comprehend.
Black and white,
all spelled out in pretty prose.
But then they peel back another layer
reveal something new
and uncover a new puzzle,
desperate to be unwound.
It’s not as easy
as they make it seem.
I can never have you.
So here I am again,
dreaming of what we could have been.
People worry, they wonder
Why am I always busy living in a fantasy?
But it’s because
That’s all you can ever be anymore.
My love for you is endless.
A labyrinth I work my way through,
with no desire for an exit.
It settles into my bones,
and I spend my days wandering,
exploring all the new and profound pieces of you.
Do you still think of me as you fall asleep?
Do you reach for me in the middle of the night
the way I still reach for you?
I’m drowning over and over,
and still praying the tide
will bring me back to you.
These storms are relentless,
a clear sky just wouldn’t feel right.
I’m scared to spray your perfume on my pillow.
I’m scared that once it runs out,
I’ll never relish in the comfort of you ever again.
I’ve been inside my apartment for nearly five months now.
But I’ve never felt further away from home.
It’s down to the wire, a toothless thread of hope that I’ll still cling to. After all, what else do I have left to hold?
Love, after all, is the most elaborate method of self harm.
Replaying a million different things I should have done differently, and letting each one haunt my dreams every night.