I can pinpoint the moment it severed
that fine gossamer thread of infatuation
shivering strand of incandescent feeling
I was inches from you and the request
to remove my countenance from your space
I felt it snap then the mental line
connecting me to you
and in that space, what is left? Emptiness
of a kind, that is true; a chasm to be bridged
now with time and experiences gained together
rather than the moxy hubris of connectivity
born of simply being within proximity
I can pinpoint the moment of growth
the steel-cut dawning of awareness
watching the habitat of a man consumed
by his own obsessions tear apart pipes
and accept with aplomb flame-broiled joists
you made time for me as well
I felt it solidify
and in this space, all is here. Emptiness
is for yesterday and I understand your bridge
now that it's possible and maybe even probable
given we court with projects and activities
and decorating the air with sound
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