I suffer through them, these rifts which will
always run between me and everyone.
I catch myself before opening gifts
never meant to be opened, sentiments not allowed me
every connection cracked, every feeling fleeting.
Though hands may reach, may feel for
what’s deep within, fissures stitched together
as best as I can, while lips whisper, forgot everything.
Confusion turns to actual feeling,
fostering the realization that you
and I were never you and me.
Every observation you made created the same space
between us, that’s there between me and everyone,
and all along, you were with everyone else,
with this world that always closes its circles to me.