an exhausting endeavour

how distant is your heart
that i would have to bring my passport
and have it stamped at every conversation
pass a gantry to every story
and cross an runway, only to see
your plane take off again.

our eyes meet
like strangers seated apart
in uncomfortable silence
from glimmer to dull we sit and wait
with earpieces between
the air space.

my visa got rejected
not by you, but by a foreign force
that feels, but never thinks –
love is rarely a matter of the heart,
but the mindful awarness
that there is someone beautiful
who belongs to you.

i like travelling alone,
but love is an exhausting endeavour.

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