Some days I doubt my love
For you. Love seems the furthest
From all the pieces of my life.
I’d rather pull a book
from the shelf and find comfort
in pages. I wish for solitude and silence.

When I wait for your letters or
A phone call,
The far away part of loving
Is easier than when you’re right
There waiting when I wake up
In the morning.

Somehow I feel closer to you, when
You’re the furthest from me—I dream
Of walking into the stars
On the nights when the clarity of their lights
Confirm your absence.

In the moments of darkness, I find
That knowing that I love you
Without reassurance of a return
Is the most beautiful thing I know.

Sometimes I doubt I even love you. Or ever did.
I run from you, knowing you will catch me.
Will I ever stop and rest and listen and rest?
I’d rather wait for you—than you for me.