Tristan, a Coma. (Commas)

To far away to feel good enough,
without a hand, a heartbeat, a pulse
anything at all, to react to.
Too many tiny words unexpressed,
pulled together with too many tiny commas.
Too many separations in one sentence,
it all feels too painful.
I talk to my friend, this kid, yeah,
tristan writes, and he writes without a lot of commas,
my coma to my passage.
I envy till i bubble, not in the way where I want
to seak, kill, feast, and destroy,
but in the way where I want to stick commas
like tiny little love letters in the creases of his skin.
Like tiny miss spelled thank you's,
bursting out from each and every pore.
So, I said, too far away to feel good enough,
not exactly being able to say thank you
within an arms reach, a hand, a heart, a pulse.
No comma's, my little thank you comas,
nothing to be able to react to.