The most long-distance relationship
I’ve ever had,
Was with a man sleeping
Right beside me.
Sometimes I’d wake up in the
Dark hours, and just sit there,
Cross-legged on the bed,
Watching his ribcage rise and fall,
Like waves breaking against the side
of a small sea boat.
Outside his window, the streetlights cast
Weird patches of glow
Across the empty road.
I’d let them dapple my face
While he’d lie there, encased in a duvet
universe all of his own.
It’s a strange feeling, I think, to feel like you
Are more similar to a road
Than to a person. To watch the one you love
drift off into their own quiet sea,
Until it barely feels like you are touching at all.
Nowadays, we really do live in different worlds.
He walks around department stores,
While I sit in sky-top offices.
He sends me pictures of the sun
While it rains outside.
But it’s different now, somehow.
It’s like I can feel this strange light on my arms,
This warmth that tells me that somewhere out there,
A million miles away from home,
He’s awake too.