I'm glad I never met your face;
I'm glad  you're far from home;
I'm glad our meetings never came,
so I could cry in bed alone.

I'm glad our worlds were not the same;
I'm glad we  had our different zones;
Of time and space; of heart and mind—
of suffering—all which is my own.

For if we met, and found each other
Mapped every corner, bend, and contour,
I'd find I'd regret the day that I met you,
since seeing you would've hurt me more.