Long(ing)-distance

I fumble through my olive bag,
reach past the glowsticks and the pens,
the bottle-cap opener I found in the sand
under the sea and rest my hand
on the chat window to you.

I love you.

I miss you.

It feels like the movies.

I need you.

I miss you.

The credits start rolling.

I stretch, miles away, in the afternoon sand.
Between these two summers lies the promised land.

As I bathed in the Sun, this hourglass trip,
for a moment- I guess- I let my mind slip.
For the weight of the world seemed the weight of you.
The warmth of the Sun almost felt like you do.

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