Twisted

I miss you and I’m sitting right next to you.
What is this feeling?
Mere feet between us, yet we’re miles apart.
I feel like there are little sand grains
Pumping through the weakened valves of my ever-aching heart.
Fear drives me off the tracks,
Ignoring the lines that divide the sides.
My knuckles scratch and match the cracks in the asphalt.
My hands grip the steering wheel,
Tempted to let it go,
Taunting fate or maybe grace
To set me free.
I want to be free like the air,
Flowing peacefully between the trees,
Wrapping myself around and between the hands of two lovers.
I want to be the sound that escapes the lifted covers,
The shifted sheets of going further.
What vines do grow within my grove?
What strangle struggles, tangles love?

What more can I offer you?

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