Growing Apart-Michael Erickson, Guest Barista

Since when has our bond grown loose?

How I wish to hold you in my arms.

You fit beneath my chin, tucked into my heart.

Now I feel the emptiness stretching us wide.

Apart we are, orbiting the same star,

Yet never are we to touch again.

To collide would mean destruction.

Contact produces an end.

-M.E. Inkowl


Read more of Michael’s writing at The Ink Owl

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