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?