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you are across the deep blue ocean,
over six thousand kilometres away,
waiting until we meet again,
eight hundred and thirty-six days.

will you wait?
i can only pray,
that when we unite,
you’ll want me to stay.

‘age’. okay.
does it truly matter to you?
don’t listen to their opinions,
you know we’ll get through.

ten lonesome days
since i last kissed your lips,
drooling and craving,
pulling me in by the hips.

the smell of sweet cigarettes,
placing my hair behind my ear,
soft kisses down the neck,
where do we go from here?

only in my dreams,
all of this is true,
eight hundred and thirty-six days,
until i can be with you.

see… i don’t always have that luxury

i don’t get to mess up his curly brown hair because it looks soft, or play with his fingers while our hands are clasped together.

i don’t get to lay with him and choose a movie to watch while my body perfectly moulds into his, or feel his slightly chapped lips pressing against my cheek when i say something silly.

i can’t even steal his glasses from his face and let him chase me around until he eventually play-tackles me to the floor, snatching them from my hand.

i can’t hear his heartbeat when i lay on him, or smell his addictive scent of sweet cigarettes before we fall asleep on one another.

i can’t see him looking at me dead straight in the eyes when we talk face-to-face, or compare our heights side-by-side in the mirror.

i don’t get to hear his voice that i crave, or catch him staring at me from across the room with a cheeky smirk spread across his face.

i don’t get to beg him to take a selfie with me, or listen to him singing to me with his raspy voice, or even wait for him to sneak up on me and give me a hug from behind.


instead, i have to look at photos on my camera, and not those pure gorgeous brown eyes.

instead, i think about him while I walk my school halls and wonder what his weather is like.

instead, i lay in bed, re-watching the videos and photos we took together.

instead, i have to touch and hold my own hands where his would be.

instead, i constantly search the time difference between him and i.

instead, i have to cry, grasping onto the two anklets he gave me that still have a drop of his scent left in them.

instead, i spend my time online finding the cheapest plane ticket to go see him.

instead, i stay up until 3:17 in the morning, missing the feel of his lips on mine.

instead, i keep my eyes laid on my phone all day, waiting to receive a text or a call from him.

instead, i dream of the day we can be together without 2,700+ miles between us.


i knew this pain would be here,

and i knew it could haunt me and become a daily struggle,

and i knew it would hurt like my soul was being torn into a thousand pieces and my heart was bleeding onto my skin from the inside out.

and i knew that when things go wrong back at home, we won’t always be there to hold each other.

but if this is what it takes to be with the man that makes me want to live when i wanted to be thrown in a box with the oxygen off,

if this is what it takes to be with the one that showed me that love wasn’t dead and pulled me out when i was trapped in my thoughts and lost in life,

…to feel what true love is?


oh i’ll do it all… for him and i.