i can't wait to see you again, but i'll tell you right now i'm scared.

filtered through 700 miles of telephone wire, words are still getting caught in our throats- forcing their way out muffled and foreign, the same way they did in the weeks before you left.

we agreed that time apart would probably save us. true i ache for you at frequent intervals throughout the day-true i wish i had you in my arms more often than not. but what the fuck happens when we establish contact?

we speak to each other like civil enemies these days.
most of the time.

our conversations are clumsy and hardassed, because somewhere along the way thats how we decided we are going to interact. and if physical distance can't break that habit, i dont know what will.

i never intend to speak to you in such bored tones... a blatant contradiction to the urgent enthusiasm we once had for each other.

it takes 2....

but on my end...here are

my inconclusions:
you and i have been making lots of noise-sparked a rude awakening of emotions that had been snoozing in parts of me that no one sees. now they're turning over, they're standing up, they're stretching beyond their familiar capacity...

organizing a revolution, having secret meetings in the middle of the night, combining their strengths, making plans to bust out of my ribcage, spill out to invade the obscure little world that revolves around me. and you.

i guess i wasn't ready. so i'm on guard 24 hours a day, it's what you've come to expect. you just keep your distance and wait for one of those rare moments that i decide to let you in.

i know that love is selfless-yet here i am, thinking i can have you on my own terms, keep you just in arms reach.

i think that i'm bad for you, but i can't walk away. because i've caught glimpses of me and you in a better place-a place too divine to give up without a fight.

there's no doubt that i love you, but i love you like a real asshole-spending every moment we have together in preparation for the day it all stops.

you've been gone for 2 weeks. you'll be back in 6 days. we're on the phone again, cuz thats what lovers do when they're apart. we are so far-removed. we drone on for awhile about how we spent our days, share a couple of awkward silences... i strain to hear what you're saying over the static-i ask you to repeat yourself often-partly because i can't hear you, partly because i want you to say something else.

i just want us to be okay again. i want our problems to be simple. i want there to be some instant phrase that reconciles our passion. i spend way too much time contemplating what went wrong, i forget to figure out how to make things better. then the conversation is over, and i notice, when we exchange 'i love you's', the obvious tones of resignation.

whenever i hang up the phone i throw up my hands. whenever i think of you i squint. i dont know where to go from here.