I know that time’s our winless fight when two months start to feel like it’s forever without you.
The distance is haunting; your voice is calling in the back of my mind for me to want this through the hard times that have passed since.
I find myself missing you through several past years, through seasons’ movements and sadness, my tears buried between soft sand edges obscuring my view of what should be of this melodious melancholy scene.
The tale of your voice resounds onto my skin with every breath that I take, yearning for the feel of your body beside me.
Oceans have separated across mid-origins, pulling us apart like a dead knot sleeve that won’t ever break, and I don’t see a visible end to this lovesick toss game.
Frail bodies and loud spirits, your eyes speak louder than the words out of your mouth than the thoughts inside my head that tells me we won’t make it.
You hold promises heavier than the mountains I’ve been to, higher than the volcanic peaks I’ve seen, and I can’t help but believe you more than I don’t.
There’s something about us, and this magic crystalline scene drawn upon outside my window drapes.
Of you standing on the street, a red rose in your hands weeping, talking to the moon about me.
Streetlights flicker in the night, shadows dancing ahead of road signs, safe trails branching onto the ground of wilderness, freedom whispering into my ears that she is on our side.
I want you right here. If I told you the three words sitting at the tip of my tongue, swirling out of my head in dreams of worlds of us, would you believe it? Would you take my hand and tell me you feel it? The moon shifts location, the sun rises from an opposite direction. Soon it’s Christmas here, and flowers are blooming amidst the winter season; I realize that not for a moment have I ever stopped wanting you right here.