the amount of space
between two things,
two beings,
it doesn’t exist:

a collective protest
against what’s real.

what is real
is you,
and me.

what’s between us?
not plane tickets
and train rides.

it’s just the ache of
not being able to find you
in your expected place,
right next to me.

there’s no measurements
between us.

i can always reach you,
faster than anything,
and it’s free,
and i will always give it to
you.

and you
don’t even have to ask,
because you deserve it.

we deserve to be.