Quiet across the nightstarred sky
Silent throughout the sunsoaked day
Audible only twixt moments and breaths
No one hears it even when I speak
I mutter my death thoughts but
No one ever quite makes out
What I'm bleeding through words
A membrane thin as frost divides us
But so pliable and flexible and soft
We may push and scratch and pull
Yet never breaking through? Not ever?
Surely there is a second, a scrap of time
Where I can contact you, love you, know
Who you are and who I am and why we
Are here separate and together always
There simply must be one place, one
Aperture permitting contact with not-me
At least one - why not more? Because
I have been so alone for so very long
But even millions of openings between
Does not guarantee that one of billions
Will necessarily find any gateway during
This or any other lifetime - not certainly
So the question becomes not whether
The gap exists, or the bridge, but rather
Why haven't I found my pathway to you?
Why are you and I still separate today?
And will we be apart and alone always?
