there will
always be
that one
slice.
that one
slice
of a
person,
any
person that
you will
ever know,
that
stays
unknowable.
no matter what you
do,
no matter what you
say,
no matter
when or
why or
how,
you will be kept
apart,
even by the smallest
bit,
just that
inch, that
sliver, that
slice.
drink together,
laugh together,
enjoy life together,
sleep together,
marry,
have kids,
die in one another’s
arms
you can
try as much as
you’d like.
even if it’s
spent with
them for
every remaining
living
moment
you have left
on this Earth,
you will never
know
that bit of
them, that
shred of
mystery, that
slice.
it is always the
small things:
what they do when
they are
in the shower or
on the train,
when they get
dressed in the
morning,
when they’re on
the toilet,
when they’re
on a business
trip, on an
airplane
first class
drinking
champagne
with a toast
murmured silently
to themselves
with no one to
clang
with.
what they feel
when they
watch
an action movie
or
listen
to a sad
song.
it’s these things
you will never
and can never
know,
and you must
submit to this,
accept this,
understand this,
yes,
you
must.
for even the
closest of
couples
the most loving of
mothers, fathers
sons and daughters,
the most
prosperous of
business
associates,
retain
this
distance.
together, it’s
the distance
of seven billion
hearts,
all these
little
inches,
all these little
shreds and
all these
slices,
they all
add
up.
all at once,
a stranger and a
friend,
a lover and
an enemy
don’t feel
so
different.
in the same
breath
all at once
you and
I and all of
us
seem
so
far
away.