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Growing Apart

I ask you ‘How was your day?’
‘Fine,’ you say.
I feel the thread slipping away.
Holding my hand in mid-air,
Empty, without the warmth of yours,
I realize,
We’ve been walking
On opposite sides
Of a canyon.
Our hands can not reach,
Our thoughts will not touch.
 
We have created this chasm,
We have the power to close it,
Build a bridge, make the connection.
But we have not the tools...
Nor the will...
The rift grows,
Splitting our world in two.
Two estranged souls,
We drift apart,
Into stars.
 
©Olga Gavrilovskiy 2014
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