Distance in between

If my fingers could touch her,
they'd tell her how much they missed her.
But not before embarking on a ride...
To a sweet world clocked with respite
and gasps of cruel kind;
where words have no place to stay
as they linger in the thick air above.
Silence wisely takes over,
only to be punctuated by love.
And skin will turn into extended territories
while sweat beads shall look divine.
Crumpled clothes, smeared colours,
Cold moonlight, waking up to sunshine.
With actions borrowing forms from emotions,
much more happening inside. 
If my fingers could touch her,
they'd show her how much they missed her.