The chasm between us widens
With every sip you take
I’ve always been separate, though
Through this life
It’s not you, it’s me
Splitting through at the center
Over something so ordinary
It’s hardly worth mentioning
Except until it is
So I stay on my side of the gap
And not bother you with me
This fractured human
With too much human
Who walks alone
I love your poem. 🙂
“This fractured human/with too much human…” Yes.
This poem. I want to make it some tea and put it under my soft afghan. Lonely things speak to me, they really do.
I could relate to this, the idea of keeping complaints to oneself and not “bothering” other people. The lines, looked at as a whole, seem to form a crooked chasm.