Can almost touch her—
    almost see her smile,
          hear her laugh,

    feel the easy warmth of just being near her.

But 'almost'…
             isn't nearly enough.

She's right there—
         tomorrow,
  only hours away,

  close enough to taste but too far to hold.

The space is cruel now,
    taunting me with glimpses
    of moments we could be stealing,
       kisses we're not sharing,
       conversations waiting,

    a lifetime paused in mid-air.

Time drags its feet,
    each minute stubborn,
    each second a slow-motion reminder
    of how close she is—

    and how far we still have to go.

Tomorrow will come,
       I know that—

But every second without her
    feels wasted,
    feels empty,
    feels like holding my breath…

    until she gives me air again.

Until then?
    I'll be here.

    *Aching*…
             for what's just out of reach.