Closeness isn’t defined by distance,
Which could be literal
But also of the figurative sense.
I’ll sit next to you on couch
And never once open my mouth
Or move my hand
To place it on your knee.
And the dearest thing to
Me is eons and eons away
And completely out of reach,
Whether it be a person
Or an idea
Or a shattered memory
Of broken glass.
Hell’s got nothing on this,
I can tell you. Because
It’s so undeniably peculiar
But utterly delicious
And I’m telling you it’s sin in the
Hottest way possible, apparently,
To love something so much,
And more that a god you knew
Nothing about.
That’s not gonna happen.