you're over there
and i'm over here
but my God
wouldn't it be a blessing
to share the same air
to see the same silly mirror
in the same silly room
what an honour it would be
how breathtaking it would be
to experience the mundane with you
the greys
to bright rainbows
the blues
to happy yellows
no matter the planes, mountains or valleys
they all come alive when our feet touch the same ground
music is clearer
colours are louder
everything smells of my grandmother's sewing room
what i mean is you feel like nostalgia
and butterflies for a distant painting of what's to come
i can smell the coffee you'd make us
the quick kisses that turn into lingering love
the eggs, the oats, the blankets, the dirty dishes
the tears of reconciliation and the pain of frustration
the afternoon. morning, evening strolls,
and all the poured out watercolours in the sky
from all their sunsets and rise
the movies we'll watch
the ones we'll make
the art that's yet to be created
the songs i'll sing to you, for you, about you...
our entire lives a neverending art exhibition
our hearts poured onto the canvas
of temporal earthly eternity
paint everywhere and everywhere
although it never seems accurate enough
"Have a good day, my love. I'll see you later,"
Not a distant echo carried by the miles,
But a fleeting whisper as you slip through the door.
A fantasy…
But you're over there,
And I'm over here,
We gaze at the same moon,
Tears in our eyes as our souls ache,
Meant to be one,
Yet bound by the distance of an 'I miss you' text.
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