Distance

Somewhere in the distance

you’re walking through the park

taking pictures of the flowers

the ducks, and the water.

-

I sit by my desk

frustrated by the lack of words

then work on the plaster-boarding

covering up my shame.

-

A thousand trains have run today

but we’re not on one of them,

the distance is maintained

and only slowly grows.

-

My message has been read,

a blue tick,

but no response,

busy again, I tell myself,

but know I’m kidding no one.

-

Time moves and love dissolves,

the distance grows,

my blood turns cold.

-

The walls are eroding

my pains revealed at last

insecurity, addiction,

the ugliness pervading.

-

The connection drops,

the wire snaps,

the candle blows out.

-

And I wait in the dark

for you to appear

silently unaware that

the distance is still growing,

the tumour untouched,

and it’s all on me.

-

We used to lay

side by side for hours,

a rare warmth searched for

and finally found.

-

Late nights had never

passed like a breeze.

-

Now I lay in silence,

clutching every blanket,

knowing that somewhere

you feel fine without me.

-

Every minute like a needle

digging slightly deeper.

-

Every memory tarnished

by my own ugliness.

-

Every moment bleeding together,

into a bleak portrait:

-

a life without passion

ruled only by working

and waiting for the end

in subservient silence.