This is me, giving you your space.
I know you didn't ask me to.
But I can feel you pulling at the thread that connects your tin can to mine.
I can feel the tension--here it twang audibly--as my grip and yours tighten over the parts of us
That we've exchanged like love letters and sweet nothings
(Which for the record I secretly hope were more like sweet somethings).
This serendipitous intimacy that I've grown so psychologically dependent on putrefies under the priorities we've got to uphold
Like maintaining our social lives
And finding a chance to unplug
And remembering who we want to be when we aren't eighteen
For the sake of treading water in the infinite flow of todays and tomorrows...
It weighs on me wide and heavy like the five thousand miles of land and sea that stretch between us.
And I know that you're not distant because I did something
Or didn't do something.
But the fact of the matter is that you are distant.
So I'm giving you your space
Whether you notice or not
And maybe if I get lucky
You'll find your way back to me.
I don't know man. This poem's stupid now that I'm looking at it.
