my mind is a dark forest
that I was lost in
and when I met you
you were the path that
led me into the light
again

She is surrounded by white walls
That only add
To the odd feeling
Of the fluorescent lights beating
Down on her head.
There is no sun,
Only chairs
And the thin wall
Separating her from her father.
Her father
A man
Who appears to have been
Strong willed
Until he was confined
To the small bed
On which he lies
Hooked up to a machine
And unable to speak.
His eyes are closed,
Thinner than he ever was,
He looks . . .
Weak,
Feeble even.
She digs her head deeper in the book,
Separating her from the other people in the room,
From the thoughts that haunt her.
It doesn't matter
What the words say,
It's the only thing she has.
She clings on to the book as if
It was her father's life.
On a thread
She can't help but take a deep shaky breath;
Breathing is the only thing keeping her from
Crying
All she can do is keep breathing.

Sometimes i feel like i've been gone for too long,

The orchids have died, the leaves have dried
With vines clawing through the walls of a space where i had once reside
The fields are bare, the sky a pale ivory
I approached the half opened door, with feet dragging slowly

I turned on the light as it showered the space with a dim lit
With every step, an eerie feeling started to creep
From the moss covered floor to the soles of my feet

Sometimes i feel like i've been gone for too long,

Further in, i heard voices starting to whisper
Ringing my ears with words like
You don't belong now, you're just a stranger

With hands pressed to my ears i tried to drown them down
Eyes darted to find where from, came the sound

But then the lights flickered and i saw from across the room
Faint shadows laughing and dancing, such a contrast from the surrounding gloom
Faces familiar, but there's something about their eyes
They shone a different pristine, much brighter than the diamonds of the skies

Sometimes i feel like i've been gone for too long,

I tried to walk closer, tried to pat on a shoulder
But my fingers slip through like a knife slicing water
Then again came the voices whispering a little louder

You've gone so far
You've gone so far they've forgotten who you are

My body turned numb, with only the shivers of a throbbing heart
Tears began to well as i stumbled in the dark

Look at them
The voices continued to spew

Look at them so happy
So happy without you

this is a poem dedicated to distance.
to every time i have wanted to kiss you, but couldn't.
to every time i looked at my empty hands and thought of yours.
to every time i was in a crowded room and secretly hoped that i'd find your face.
to every happy couple we see that inadvertently mocks our inability to be near each other.
to every time i've played your laughter over and over in my head to drown out the silence.
to every time you just wanted to hear my voice, but i was busy.
to every missed call and every undelivered text and every time your internet was down.
to every miscommunicated statement and every typo.
to every time that one of us was asleep when the other needed them.
to every time you wept and i wasn't there to hold you.
to every self-destructive tendency we share.
to every pill your mother has hidden and every razor blade i have flushed.
to every worry that plagues my consciousness whenever you take long to reply.
to every night we have been together through a screen, but alone in our beds.
to every, "i miss you" and "i wish you were here".
to every broken-record apology that never makes it better.
to every makeup stain that mars the sweater you sent me so that i could
feel like i was sleeping with you (and to the fact that it doesn't smell like you anymore).
to every hour, every minute, every second of difference in the time between us.
to every dollar i don't have, and every time i wished for your chest against my back.
to every, "why are you even with me?" and "you could do better".
to every spectator and cynic that has told us we'd fail.
to every doubt of mine and to all your jealousy.
to every ounce of water in the pacific ocean.
to every ******* mile between my head and your chest (i checked, and there are 9,752).

you will not win.

- m.f.

Sipping lukewarm coffee
On the second floor
Looking out the arched windows
A neutral, crisp winter morning
Trees all but filled with leaves
Their shadows painted against the tan canvas
Of the buildings across the street
I could be in any town right now
And nobody would be able to guess which
A glance across the table
Confirms you're not here
It really doesn't matter what town I'm in
As long as we're both there
And there's two story coffee shops
For us to sit down in on mornings like these