Sunday, April 13, 2025

Three Thousand Miles

You take my hand in yours,
kiss the ring on my finger,
remind me of our promise.
Your eyes whisper,

We will be okay.

Your arms surround me,
silence the storms in my head,
and in a single breath
I'm at peace.

It's not goodbye.

But somewhere beneath my skin,
something small and restless
still claws at my chest,
begging me to listen.

Two years seems so long.

The ground rumbles
with arrivals and departures.
Your arms surround me, warm as August

but slipping, slipping,
like tidewater
after a wave.

 

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