So near, so far; my heart laments
Your presence, detached yet courteous.
Will not this fevered yearning find the strength to stand,
And ****** aside propriety?
Intimacy dressed in Sunday best, snags my soul as thorns on flesh.
A lighter burden would my heartstrings bear,
Should oceans part us - or my eyes should find you not so fair.

Thinking of quitting
Thinking of sand
Thinking of lying
A hand in my hand

Thinking of breathing
Thinking to just
Stop me from thinking
Of you, if I must