three thousand miles

I miss you.
god, i miss you.

it's this constant presence in my mind and pressure in my chest
and I don't want to miss you but i do and it keeps happening
my train of thought pulls into stations that i'd rather pass through
rather not remember how your fingertips felt when they were intwined with mine
how you got a sparkle in your eye every time you spit poetry
like some part of your heart was shining through

and you said your heart was gone, was broken, wasn't able to be given any more
so i said i wouldn't give you mine.
but here's the problem:
I don't want anyone else to have it.

don't want anyone else to know the secrets of my skin
don't want to show them all the scars written in invisible ink
I don't want to let anyone else in

because if I do
i'm afraid I'll forget how you felt.

but at the same time
i want to sleep next to a stranger to erase you from my hands memory
you're the last person that I kissed
and I don't know whether I want to embrace that fact or run the fuck away from it

I keep having bipolar arguments inside my own head
inside my own heart
that don't lead me anywhere
except to lead me to being distracted,
wishing that i could have you near me and yet finding acceptance that you're so far away

you are approximately three thousand miles away from me right now
but to be more exact, it's about 2,836 miles. I checked.
which is about 54 hours by car
or five and a half by plane
and none of this really means anything
because it's not like you'll hear it anyway
it's just a way for me to stop thinking about the fact
that I miss you.