relativity
ours is a distance which seems evergrowing.
like vines climbing a fence,
this aching missing of you
dances through my veins
in the graceful breeze of springtime.
i hear birds chirping in the morning
and wish for you to snuggle into;
our bodies simply vessles
by which we feel the pull of gravity
toward each other,
and as we escape
the velocities of this earth
we forever feel nearer, faster.
until then, there is this missing
this slow melancholy of waiting
and the growing sentiment
of cannot live without.