Space
A Poem About Distance
the distance between us has grown like a tumour
// swelling between words / bloated with silence
its hulking lumpy expanse / sagging in the gap
between you and me // we used to talk every day
I might have missed you
but always you would find me // you’ve stopped looking
and I am afraid to know why
it’s never been more painful to read between the lines
when there’s so much // space
to forge through / a thicket of emptiness
a jungle of nothing / just pale shivering quiet
closing in around me / I know it’s difficult
haven’t you told me how hard it is
to reach out // when you feel weighed down
/ by the world / how easy it is for you to dig that
ditch of distance
to hide yourself behind unsaid words
I promised I understood
when I snap my promises in two maybe we can heap
them in the same pile as yours // a mountain of
broken promises from the two of us // clawing their way through space
tumbling over the edge and plummeting into the gap
between you and me // I wish you would stop saying
I promise // but I would rather hear one
more feather-thin promise than throw // questions
into your silence
// you are buried deep under your own hurts
suffocated by your own problems
each one twisting // harder and harder around your neck
tunneling deeper into your gut // until you can hardly breathe
much less choke out a word
your tongue is tied with pain // and I am trying to help
only I don’t
seeing you hurt is like feeling my lungs deflate inside me
only
I would rather see your tears than not know about them
you have been cleaning out your room you say
and maybe I // was one of those things
that were loved but simply take up // space now
valuable // space that you need to stretch out your roots
and grow toward the sky / we were close
closer than I have been with anyone
close enough that I could close my eyes / and
imagine the warm gold of your scent
close enough that the lines of our palms intersected in half a hundred ways
but maybe you need // space
maybe I need space
maybe I’m not drowning in your silence
maybe it’s not your silence that // pours into my throat
clogs my esophagus / shrivels my lungs
sidles into my bone marrow / maybe it’s not your silence
that fills me / maybe it’s my own fear
of not being good enough
and maybe the gaps are not between you and me
they’re torn vents in my own heart
and maybe I just need to learn how to pump
my own blood through it again
when I can pick up the pieces of myself
scattered in this great wide vast space
maybe I’ll see you
on the other side of the
gap
