d i s t a n c e
the cruel word that grazes through my lips,
what makes my eyes sore when thoughts of it drip through my mind.
thoughts of you and I separated through oceans,
wishing that its tide were your arms so you could pull me back to you.
to your arms that I call my home,
to your eyes were I seek refuge,
to your lips where I tasted love and where you would plant kisses on me
and I'd wait for them to blossom to the future of me and you.