Catching up with you is only an illusion.
When falling asleep, I think
about all that the day has done for me,
and wanting only a little more of your time.
Hiding from you and running away, whilst watching the
empty streets and wishing you'd appear.
I hide myself, yet
beg silently for you.
Horrified that I never saw it before.
Denied it could ever be true.
You could actually tear me apart
from the inside, if you wanted to,
and it'd be so much worse than
the marathon run down heart and
evaporated motivation.
Though the moment you drape yourself
over me,
I drift into an unstructured realm;
a whole dimension that has life because
you've gifted it to me.
If I have to go a single night without you,
I would end up deeper into the crevices of the creaky floor boards
and stew in the wreckage.
A night when you're not there
is a romanticized particle of shuffling
in the sheets, pressing
against the cold, so something can have my attention
when restlessly spacing out
and dreading the seconds passing by
with you not there.
Wishfully thinking that any moment now,
I'd close my eyes and you'd appear.
~Tina Meeks
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