how can i explain to you that no, my pinky isn’t tied to yours by an imaginary thread like the legends say but once in a while when the full moon is out and i’m in bed with a cup of tea and a book, i feel this incessant tug on my heart and i know it’s you from 3,459 miles away thinking of me hoping that i’m thinking of you.

or how a compass has a mind of its own but always manages to point north because of the earth’s magnetic field and i hope that your eyes always find their true north in me. when you’re lost. when you’re found. i think especially when you’re lost and we’re separated by oceans. but for now, your eyes are closed like waves and the earth is silent and my only company are the crickets chirping next to my bedroom window so i don’t explain any of this and just let you sleep.