I wish I did not have to build excuses
Like walls of delicate plastic bricks
For talking to you.

I wish we weren’t so far apart
That the telephone line buzzed with empty silence
And awkward empty bubbles of space
Filled with things I wish I could
Have said to you.

I want to make a book
Filled from cover to cover,
With a hundred different times, I’ve wished I was your lover,
Wished you’d hold my hand
And your face could be inches
From mine not
By accident
Then I could hold you close,
And squash the bugs of paper dust
Scribbled with dreams that I couldn’t smell without smelling you.

I want to call you, hold your soul
Make you smile on my fingers
I’m holding my breath for six months
Waiting for the longing that fades out
And the record snaps
Splitting you from my consciousnesses


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