How far apart do I have to be from you
to be something remotely valuable,
or even just a stain on your beige dress?
For when you take it off,
every stroke of wind against your body,
makes you quiver and say my name.
How far apart do you have to be from me
so I hear that sound loud and clear
as if it comes from within?
I don’t want an answer,
For the truth will make me believe
that the distance between us is
immeasurable; impossible to cover.
Writing Is Heaven 