i suppose because most things get wrung out by the hands of
my everyday movements
but this.
this does not. we do not speak. we do not resolve.
a best friend infiltrates your system and
fills your mind and body with love
and warmth
and the coldness of your separation is like
an icy slush replacing my blood.

when we are not connected i am not connected.
a piece of my consciousness is across the way
living and breathing and loving and hurting
and she is unaware of this
she does not know how large the piece
i broke off and placed in her palms is.


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