The space between us

Never extends further than the length of string

On which you carry my heart —

In a romance novel, a heart of pure gold;

In a horror novel, my real heart.

They both tell tales.

Our story changes chapters,

Switches characters,

Moves to less extraterrestrial locales —

How domestic shall we appear, 

Protecting our independence in the process?

How far do we stretch out the string?