I try to write about you all the time
but
when i take out my pen it feels like
my bones are made of lead
the words all make crystal clear sense
in my head
but
when pen meets paper,
there is no way to illustrate the
l o v e, the
f r u s t r a t i o n, the
a w e, that comes from talking to you
the way we talk feels like we are so close
yet there is a thousand mile deep crevasse
keeping us apart.
three hours and twenty four minutes
three hours
and
twenty four minutes
two hundred and six miles
in between us
and
somehow I keep you within
arms reach all the time
never letting you slip through my fingers
like the sand at the beach when we met
for the very first time
I will not let you slip

slip           slip
      away      

s.r.