the_nearest_thing_to_being_close raze on days that seem too quiet, as if they fell from the sky's womb unsure of what they wanted to be and then spent their short lives observing themselves without understanding why, when you are there, and i am not there with you, i am thinking of ways to close the gap, painting a beautiful failure with red sable and oil. we are alone together, blue and black lines, almost touching, kept apart by the indifferent white space that interrupts our movement and holds us where we are. and i would stretch my body to its end to reach you, but the line i've drawn will go no farther. sleep comes on like a sluggish summer rain, and the painting becomes a dream. you are crouched at the bottom of a hand-dug water well. i am falling over the edge. it feels like i've always been falling. when i touch down, you stare at me like i'm a bridge you're not sure you trust enough to cross. something haunted stirs in the dark pools of your eyes. you climb onto my back and i dig my nails into the wall, clawing my way up brick by brick, until the cold morning air pricks our faces and we're resting on wet grass and dirt. you let out a small moan pitched somewhere between relief and weariness. your voice is the sound that escapes when the branch of a young tree is broken by the crisp breath of a lightning storm. you rest your head on my chest, and close your eyes, and fall asleep inside my dream of you. the day begins to split at the seam, and i can see a clear division between what is happening now, and what will happen when the sun is spent and the birds have lost their voices from singing with too much feeling. for now, life is going on all around you. and it seems fitting that you should be sleeping through it. your hair is something that grew out of the earth beneath us when i wasn't looking. i want to lose myself in the tapestry of your eyelashes and never be found again. 130217 ... unhinged you noticed i was getting ready to leave and came out from behind the bar, wrapped your arms around. then you tried to let go but i still grabbed you close. you chuckled. i tilted my face upwards towards yours 'i'm a hug person,' you squirmed and i laid my head back on your chest 'but i know you're not.' 'no, i'm not.' i let_go 130217 what's it to you? who go blather from