Patient Chasms of Life

I’m frightened of the thing that I’ve become; of the distance, the iron-cold that I’ve forged between us. What have I done, or have I done nothing?

And as we stand here, under the sun, my breath fogs up the wall of glass that has grown there between my heart and yours.

Through it, my gaze strokes your skin - just barely so -, and I remember the warmth that your arms once extended towards me. So readily, so abundantly.

Have I lost you? Are you there?

We do not understand each other. Words form the chasm arising between us. Worlsd moving apart, like tectonic plates shifting, over the course of aeons.

Or is it just the gushing waters pressing past us, furiously. The river of life, drowning our words in noise, before they even had a chance to be heard.

Our faces mirrored on the watery surface, light falling into our eyes. And we turn our heads, mere intuition, away from the reflection. Away from each other.

Human, that we are.

Maybe, we’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe, tomorrow is when we will meet.