D I S T A N C E

the length of the measuring tape we had on our hands,
that was the farthest I thought you'd go,
and we'd roll the edges,
until we meet again.

but now that I think of it,
it wasn't a 60-inch tape we were holding.


circumference of this planet: maybe that's the approximate length,
of that thread ball, you decided to leave one end for me,
and took the other with you.

farthest you were.
the farthest away from everything that connected us.

I climbed hills, in hope.
teasing echo by her narcissus,
screamed your name on top of my voice,
for you to hear from the tallest skyscrapers.

I hoped.

we tried connecting paper cups at the ends of the thread,
isn't that the best telephone?

the chilly weather,
and the snow that never melted,
maybe that's how the thread got buried.
because when I still ring the paper cup,
it says busy but never unavailable.

if we rescue the buried thread,
and roll it together again,

will you follow me to our home,
like you followed the stars,
when we lost our way,
and you told them you trust me more.

but do you trust me anymore?

and now I need to know,
because I'm still wondering,
the length of the measuring tape we had on our hands,
that was the farthest I thought you'd go,
and we'd roll the edges,
until we meet again.
_______________________
 Foggy Brooklyn Bridge by: