Distance makes the heart break harder with every mile

Someone told me that if he writes you a sonnet, he loves you, and
if he writes you three hundred, he loves sonnets, but I can’t help scribbling
down allegories and assonance, my words are my way of wanting to
show you just how much i love you. i could write a dozen villanelles 
about the freckles on your back and how i want to trace them, create 
constellations and show you that you’re celestial to me.

i love you. i love the way you call me “kumquat” and i so often 
dream about waking up beside you and it hurts, it aches, you’re my 
compass pulling me north, you’re my deep brown eyes in the storm and

i eat peaches and lick honey off a spoon but all i can think of is how
sweet it would be to just hold you in my arms, i can’t help but wonder
if you look up at the same wishing stars that i do and hope i’m
counting every meteor, picking every dandelion, because i know
that i’d go to the ends of the earth and back just to hold your hand

and this feeling in my chest, half my heart is with you and 
the space in my rib cage feels so empty without its missing piece,

and if you were here, if only you were here, please whatever god 
or monster or unknowable entity hear my prayer, just let me 
be sound asleep beside you and know that i am loved.