we’re separated by miles theoretically
Our hearts, by a few yards until recently
i can hear you still, like last year
last year, when we were one soul
there was no separation
i tie my hair
untie them
and tie them once more
glance at the clock
the watches
the phone
i can still hear you in a distance
a few miles
a few miles
or maybe a few yards
i can hear the heart ticking
our pulses racing
racing away
from that one moment
one moment that lost us more
more of a you and a me
i type aggressively
not to match our beats anymore
heart beats
pulses
deep and heavy breaths
we were pretty sure of ourselves
deceiving a separation, measurable,
and finally its the distance
The distance
The distance
Some distance
the distance that got between you and me.

my love drew me today
by the side of the road
in casual gesture
and quiet contemplation.
he knelt so gently,
perched,
like when he waits for me to get up first.
his hands didn't shake
the way mine do when I do something passionate
or when I create and destroy.
on the tips of his fingers
his tool of choice smudged clouds
like we always saw driving
and smoke like warnings from fires.
my love drew me,
drew me in with his demeanor
but drew me out onto that curb.
I looked down
and an outline faced me
bleeding out in the rain-
an outline
like mortal fears solidified.
flat out on the cracked pavement of my future dreams
the contours of a shrinking heart sat,
the rain beating its pulse
but slowly wearing it away.
I felt the dampness through my jacket
and unfurled the yellow ribbon
I'd thought I'd never need again.

I dip my finger in the still water
the ripples move away like pulses

I step foot into a room
the people drift away from me like I'm diseased

I call out your name and can barely wave
'till you see me and flee

They said no pulse
could match the pace of mine
but our two souls
beat in time

I didn’t realise I was a blaze until I was twelve and the blood boiled beneath skin until I cut it open—(free free free free free free)—and my best friend asked me what is this before saying I love you over and over until she cried. I didn’t cry. I haven’t cried in a long time.

I have been hating my pulse for so long I do not remember how it felt to be grateful for the thud of my heart—I wish there was a wikihow on how to ruin your body in the most satisfying way possible. I would read that until it was burned into my eyelids, I would whisper it until my mother still hears it years after I’m gone, words poured into the walls of my childhood bedroom.