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 

cold of 

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. 

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