“A year already separates us; I don’t want miles between us too.”

Your eyes: a tender illustration of love, how you paint affirmations across my bare skin.

Write me a poem in Morse code, goosebumps on my skin and lines on your neck.

Your legs twitch in your sleep like you’re running to me in your dreams.

Look at our story: It is enduring.

The monsters are no longer under our beds.

I never liked nicknames until mine crossed your lips like sugar.

Every word you say to me is forever a gift and I never forget the present.

What is a home if it isn’t waking up next to you?

We are built on a foundation of facades.

Our love cannot be contained within a photograph.

You’re my Sunday morning and my Saturday night.

Without you, I’m lost.

Holy power, but more than water droplets, a whole fucking wave.

An angel’s soft breath coating the grounds, a gentle caress wakes us now.

If creativity calls, you answer. Otherwise, the words are lost to you forever.

Kiss me like my lips are the oxygen you need to survive or the passion you need to thrive.

Morality has got nothing to do with the politicians. Simply, because the straight line is considered by them as the longest distance between the two points.

There’s a hell of a distance between wisecracking and wit. Wit has truth in it; wisecracking is simply calisthenics with words.

Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!

Oh, the brave Music of a distant drum!

Distance unites missing beats of two hearts in love.

We can only see a short distance ahead, but we can see plenty there that needs to be done.

Take me to ‘nowhere’ when distance belongs here, there, everywhere.

I know loving you has consequences. In silence from a distance and alone.