There is a veil between your touch
and
my body.
You're there.
Here.
Present.
But, so is the veil that now divides
your touch
from
my skin.

It's not genuine.
You think it is but you are blind. 

The veil.
Can you see it?
I think of all of the ways that you tried your hand 
at pulling it down.
but
We're disconnected.
On two different pages and yet you felt we were singing the same song,
         We weren't.

Can you hear me?
The veil,
it's in the way.
Becoming a wall

And you could not hear me even if you listened. 
Numb to your touch
all stops in time.
Can you see this tear?
Is it that unclear?
Perhaps I have misunderstood.

The veil -
No, now
the wall is blocking you out 
You
cannot hear me and I should understand, right?
But the creator of this wall is none other than yourself.
A product of your power and my fear.
Yet
I do not want to upset you.
        You've upset me. 
So, run
away
like a mouse in the dead of night.
        Run,
because I can't.