I have never been
a believer
in love
from afar.
Distance, not so much
a killer but a destroyer
to unravel the façade
of a lie I regarded as truth.
I will not have you be my destruction.
But there you sit, absent and present.
There is no cavern in my bed, no warmth
to give away your presence, but it’s you I feel
like a bruise
pressed with words never spoken
the grace of your thumb.
It makes the air heavy:
your dissipated scent
the exhale of your cheap cigarettes
the now and then.
If I concentrate hard enough,
squeeze my eyes until they weep
I can almost recite the talks in the night
as the snow fell and I prayed it would
Seal me inside and we could start
some sort of life inside this globe,
this dream
I had
to fly
away.
I have never been a believer
but I’ve always believed in you,
love.