Elsewhere, We Became #6

There is no common ground between us but I’m an architect. I would build a bridge to you. I would carve a deep path from the tips of my fingers to yours.

I would risk splinters and pit falls to build our cathedral, a cradle for us to rest our weary heads, a sacred string of words as we breath into each other.

You would be the first and final nail in the coffin, a reason to stay right where I am. I’d take the light you pour into me and use it to illuminate the space. I want you to see every inch of me.

There is no common ground between my body and yours but you’re an artist. You would draw the quickest route to my heart with your lips. You would map the second we knew.

I would risk getting lost on a crooked back road. I would find the courage to say it this time. The dust of our trail would spin with maps of where we’ve been and a promise,

We’ll keep going until there is nowhere else to run but into each other, closing the distance, the empty space that divides.

I would risk it all to hear your heart sing with mine.

 


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If you enjoyed the poem, check out these other sneak peeks:

Elsewhere, We Became #5

Elsewhere, We Became #4: Story Excerpt

Elsewhere, We Became #3

 

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