“The rhythm of my footsteps crossing flat lands to your door,
have been silenced forever more.
The distance is quite simply much too far for me to row,
it seems farther than ever before.”
Distance seemed irrelevant when you were here by my side, it seemed surmountable and full of possibility. We were part of the age of the internet, were we not? We were used to the cords of connections fused through the ether and knotted together by words exchanged. We were used to being so far away from the people who seemed to recognize us the most clearly. Still, the distance took so much from us then we ever could have imagined. You had a past with it, dealing with oceans and time zones and the loneliness. I was so stupidly naive and hopeful, or hopeless, falling hard despite all the complications and fateful ends that would surely come of us. No matter how much I fell, how much I hoped, how much I loved you, the distance did us in. I still have the time difference memorized beneath my skin, still count it out silently, it feels instinctual, and a part of me, even now. I still feel the space between, and yes, I still miss you. I suppose I always will.
Transatlanticism :: Death Cab For Cutie
“For an instant I looked away,
and an ocean blossomed between us,
3000 miles of wild silk rippling.
On the other side your unreachable body.
the globe’s meridians bore me,
and I deplore time zones,
and the lone heart’s metronome,
without your broad chest thumping close counterpoint.
No breath I draw will properly fill my lungs till your fine spirit,
again issues into me.
No eyes will level pierce this heart’s core,
till your gaze again sends the deep arrows flying.
remember: our faces in proximity make a pure small space —
a vessel or goblet that could hold the whole Atlantic.
Always I stare you-ward:
come spill yourself into me.”
Summons (Or this won’t hurt you a bit, and it’ll cheer me up) by Mary Karr