bed sheets spread and suitcases zipped shut
holding the best of our things, the ones closest
to the heart.

my laptop prepares for a week between rooms
where I laugh in one and drink in the other
while I write about you.

I greet the long empty roads to the airport
and my navigation congratulates a new
distance that we’ve shared.

with (not so) hidden anticipation and
a fresh wave of timidness as my arms
link behind your neck once again.

so we start all over, building caresses
and conversations, lightly once again
to ignite the covered flame.

my nose forgets the gripping scent you bring
that fills my head with a pain your
searching fingers can’t locate.  

your love for books and the details of your eyes
got lost between the texts and calls
from my drunk dialings to yours.

it’s harder each time to let your hand go
and release your body from mine, not knowing
when will be the next.

I never cry sober but when you boarded
the plane, the crucial drive back home
met my tears along the way.

the borderspace between our two lands
force a distance that disappears the moment
I remember the 8am smile on your face.