an empty line

i am a slow steady waltz. moving across the floor at an even speed. my floor pattern consistent

all that separates me from the stars is a difference in chemistry and distance. this is the eternal equation. these are the numbers i cannot compute. the nearest decimal point seems endless. i am reductionism to the extreme.

and you elude me only in silent moments. when my breath is held and my tension is pulled. you are fences and i am wide open spaces. i am holding the empty line.