Our bodies don’t graze each other.
We don’t walk hand in hand in the street.
We don’t treat each other to a hug when we meet coming around corners.
We’re not all over each other, either, when one of us comes through the door of the house we don’t share.
We don’t drink our morning coffee together, either, in the chairs of a kitchen that doesn’t exist.
We don’t even try make our navels meet beneath the sheets of a bed we’ve never unmade.
Yes, our bodies don’t graze each other.
But oh, look how tangled together our souls are.
There, in the distance.