I hate distance.
Both the word
What it represents.

I hate time
And miles
And measuring
The separation
Of loved ones
Or long drives
To old stomping grounds
Turned unfamiliar.

I hate how long it’s been
Since I’ve seen her smile
Or held her hand.
That the distance
Between her and me
Is six feet underground
And five years.


I hate the miles
Across the large expanse
Of ocean
And the dollar bills
Or pound notes
To bridge the gap.

The time
Between messages
And kisses-
It’s been months
Since we said goodbye
And he got on that plane
And flew away from me.

And does distance
Slowly kill us?

The time since birth
And dead parents
And lonely hearts
Knew love.


And it’s the word-
I’ve used it so much
I’m sick of it.
How do you do it
They ask.
And I don’t know.

It’s with love
And words
And hope
And plane tickets

And trying
Not to think about
The goddamn