You are an alien to me
And I to you;
And it matters very little:
Only through brief, stolen moments.
You remain impervious to me,
And the me beyond the confines of what you see
And of what I show and say;
While I remain oblivious of the bigger part of you.
You stand always at arm’s length
As you enter my mind and occupy my thoughts,
As you visit me in my dreams and waking moments;
And I let you do so as I put my walls up higher.
You invade my thoughts and poems–
As I write words for no one,
Somehow they’d always find their way to you,
And I’d end up writing them for you, about you, of you.