Distance
Photo by Onur Can Elma.
They say distance makes the heart fonder—
but this space between us only makes mine ache.
The things we used to laugh about in the back of a classroom
are thoughts I carry now alone.
Minds once intertwined,
books open, always on the same page—
now I play guessing games with your days,
my grip on you loosening without warning.
I catch glimpses of you everywhere.
In the way others speak, your name on their lips,
in the snacks and corners of stores you showed me,
in all the places I didn’t think to miss you.
At night when I should be sleeping,
I lie awake wondering if anything will shift—
waiting for your light, your laughter,
your name to show up in my phone.
This chasm keeps stretching.
And I don’t know anymore if you want to close it.
Maybe this is just how it goes.
People change. Friendships outgrow themselves.
I never thought that would be us—
but do you even want to know me anymore?
Aanya Ranasaria
They say distance makes the heart fonder—
but this space between us only makes mine ache.
The things we used to laugh about in the back of a classroom
are thoughts I carry now alone.
Minds once intertwined,
books open, always on the same page—
now I play guessing games with your days,
my grip on you loosening without warning.
I catch glimpses of you everywhere.
In the way others speak, your name on their lips,
in the snacks and corners of stores you showed me,
in all the places I didn’t think to miss you.
At night when I should be sleeping,
I lie awake wondering if anything will shift—
waiting for your light, your laughter,
your name to show up in my phone.
This chasm keeps stretching.
And I don’t know anymore if you want to close it.
Maybe this is just how it goes.
People change. Friendships outgrow themselves.
I never thought that would be us—
but do you even want to know me anymore?
