hope in demolition

we don't have so much a language barrier, but a distance barrier.

 {which, has evolved into a language barrier}

what constitutes long distance? 
i think 6696 miles suffices.

if i were to walk eighteen miles to you, every day, across faded highways and through endless plains, a year would be too little. 

to scale down to a feasible mile-a-day, the journey would stretch in to 18 years.

i don't have the time or patience or desire for frostbite or weathered skin. so, i'm waiting for you to come to me. 

one year has evaporated. i'm pooling out the remaining 12 months. some days i wish for the sun to warm, evolve the days ahead into memories, faster. infrequently, but often enough, i cover the water of time, trying to prevent the future from coming today.  

the miles between you and i have discombobulated us in translation. offense is so easily taken without a reassuring glance or the soft graze of hands and lips. you're finally understanding what i told you in janurary, and starting to see what i've been trying to tell you since.
i'm trying to understand, too. perhaps i have missed something.

perhaps the language of man vs. woman is near incompatibility... translation is futile. 

i sincerely i hope not {although the evidence is stacked against me}

in so many months, the distance will be gone. the hedge of faded memories and longing companionship will be pruned.   but... when will the language barrier be demolished? 

i hope that with time and training and trust, the wrecking ball will leave residual damage. we can start again. it has been an earthquake coming to stand upon the rubble, but i'm ready to  work. hard hat and all.