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Elie Benhiyoun · April 3, 2020

The Six Feet Between Us


For the lovers disrupted by the lumbering ghost of Corona. 

A tribute to human affection and contact, torn away from so many temporarily and beyond.  


But for the six feet between us, 


I would place my hand upon your hand. 


I would throw my arms around your arms. 


I would hold you close to me. 


I would pass my fingers through your hair.


I would feel your softest parts pressed into mine. 


I would goofily shoo you away, tapping your forearm without thinking. 


I would gaze at your skin, seeing the complexion no lens can capture. 


I would listen to you whisper, feeling your breath waft over my eyes like a gentle wind. 


I would walk towards you, knowing in a moment only our clothes would separate us. 


I would lie by your side, worrying about tomorrow but not this moment. 


I would whisper into your ear, wishing I had popped a mint first. 


I would feed you mouthfuls of delicacies, for once ignoring its worth in calories. 


I would hand you that thing, brushing your fingertips with mine. 


I would tell you about that guy, watching your eyes grow wide. 


I would drink in your giggles, noticing how your mouth closes mid-smile.


I would change my plans if you were coming over.


I would get that shirt you like pressed for our night out. 


I would love how the folds of your dress drape over my leg on the subway. 


I would taste your dessert cause I never order my own.


I would snuggle up next to you on the Uber back home. 


I would get in your way in my tiny Brooklyn kitchen. 


I would read to you hardly caring if you listened because at least you were near me. 


But for the six feet between us. 

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