how do i explain
that loving him from a distance
feels like living with half my soul
in another timezone?
how do i explain
the unbearable tenderness
of wanting nothing extravagant
only his hand finding mine,
only his breathing beside me
beneath the same quiet ceiling?
to someone who has never loved,
this longing would sound absurd.
but love has always been a language
that makes poets out of ordinary people.
so let me speak it
the only way i know how.
the feeling i am talking about
is like the stars.
every night,
they remain impossibly far,
untouchable, unreachable,
yet i still tilt my head toward them
as though my devotion alone
could shorten the distance.
that is what loving him feels like.
he exists miles away from me,
and still
somehow my heart orbits him
as faithfully as the moon
returns to the sea.
sometimes i think longing
is just love
with nowhere to go.
it gathers in my chest quietly,
turning into midnight thoughts,
unfinished sentences,
and the ache of wishing
his arms were the place
my tiredness could rest.
but if you ask me whether distance
has made my love weaker,
i would laugh softly.
because even the stars,
from millions of miles away,
still manage to leave their light
on my skin.