Wrong words keep leaving
Lips and fingertips to make their way
to ears or eyes, through phones
or on computer screens.
I feel the distance growing
between me and those I’m
trying to hold closer.
Even in the same room
close enough to touch with skin,
close enough to feel the heat or
they still feel far away.
This distance is here already
imagined perhaps but whether it’s
in my head or not that doesn’t change
this emptiness that’s settling in my chest.
I reach across distance but my movement
ripples the air, the currents
propelling people further from me.
I guess I’ll become intimate, instead,
with my own isolation.