I want to talk.
I need to talk to you.
But this distance sews my mouth.
I want to eat greasy African food with you.
While you remind me to eat my greens too.
But this distance keeps me starving.
I want to touch your chest
While you grab my face and grace my lips.
But this distance wont let us graze upon each others skins.
I want to laugh with you, at me, at you.
But there's nothing funny about this distance.
How is this ideal?
I can't deal
With detachment
My already loose heart.
Swings and ties around you
Not to keep you locked
But to swing to universes that you thought your gravity kept you from.
Yet you cut my chords
And pick it up every now and then
When you supposedly can.
We can't be friends.
Not now at least.
Love me
This distance feels like you hate me.
How can you call this intimacy?