Strain

it looks like, my love, there are many ways to break my heart
put an ocean between us
telephone wires
twisted mouths that chew insides of lips
waiting for a sign
a number, a message on the phone
a time past midnight where legs curl up on couches
and hair is tied around the finger
in tense circles
as the clock ticks and the toes twitch

the breath is sucked in
the stomach aches
but no panadol
no hot showers
or heavy blankets
can ease this pain
can make time pass
without the changes
on my skin
and in my chest

it looks like, my love, that no sweet words
or faces smiling in hazy photographs
promises of running towards you in airports
and breathing in your shirt
no daydreams of Montreal streets at night
sharing your coat
kissing under the lamplight
nothing will ease this strain
in my chest
make time go by