Here. Take these moons for 30 nights.
Or one month, 1/12 of a year.
These are the days when you will be away from me in ways I know but cannot understand
Why they are unkind.
Distance is measurable. My love is not.
Time is measurable. My love is not.
I exist in this world. I sleep and love and dream in yours.
I no longer know where you roam as I lay awake
I do know the blank monotony of my ceiling better and better.
When you went walking in the woods last afternoon I spasmed at 3:11am and came awake
Sleep leaves my side again tonight when she knows I am thinking of you.
I am an adulterer betraying the night for love, for longing.
Missing you is the slowest kind of dying.
Someone, give me the guillotine.