For every flower I give
and every cookie I bake
there's an uncountable distance
between the giver and the loved

This barrier is deemed
the keeper of misunderstanding.
I live in a world where a certain sentence
could destroy everything I've built.

If I were to break it,
the loved would disappear,
my flowers would wilt,
and my cookies would be dough.

So I keep it up.
This fallacy,
this unstable mess,
this tamable rampage of emotion,
this shallow mask of unadulterated love

Sometimes, it's just easier to break the barrier
and start where I left off.
Far, far away.