the hole

There’s a hole between us I don’t know how to fill.

We’ve tried to pretend it wasn’t there, wiling away hours tip-toeing around the edges of this world-eating tiger-trap. A few careless words sent us over the edge and into a mess so deep and dark I’m afraid I’ll won’t crawl out the same person I was tumbling in. We tried not to let it matter.

That didn’t work.

We’ve tried to fill the hole up, feeding its hunger, tossing pieces of ourselves into the gap, hoping to fill the emptiness with ever-expanding self-sacrifice.

That didn’t work.

We’ve tried to span the yawning space with bridges of shared experience and tight-ropes of tentative conversation.

That didn’t work.

We’ve tried calling a spade a spade and letting the distance sit between us, tossing each other crumpled up notes and paper airplanes from miles away. We’ve tried to keep in touch when touch itself is not an option.

That didn’t work.

So what’s to be done? What’s left to give that we haven’t already given up? What’s left to say that we haven’t said a hundred times, a hundred ways? What’s become of us when we’ve already lost everything we are to the idea of a union that never existed?

What’s to become of me and you, and the Us we never really had?

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