The Distance It develops among endless information and blooms along side railings and bridges. Stare at the pieces - a flushed face, a crushed Coke bottle, a body of water the black sky that swallows them whole. He carries her off, gives flight to leaden feet takes a souvenir for his dashboard, his bookcase. It happens this way sometimes, when dormant passion finally awakens and finds its muse, its purpose. Get me lost, she says. She thinks he'll know the way home. © Taylor Copeland Taylor Copeland is the founder and co-editor of Decompression, a female centered poetry zine. She most recently was published in Drown In My Own Fears. When not splitting time between a full time job and part time classes, she listens to music, reads obsessively, likes pink things, drinks too much coffee, drives aimlessly and falls in love too easily. She is unashamed of all of it.