Found to read one person out of many: You.
It’s you whose arms are the curtain,
And behind lies the world and the cold,
While here I read you, feel you, being
Almost a part of you. But not quite.
To have met one soul and understood,
What more could I have asked for?
The lines next to your eyes
And your hands, your skin: to touch.
Almost being one. But not quite.