By: Foxseaone~`

“Hell,” he once said
“is being so close we could almost touch,
but not being able to.”
Now as I sit apart from him
in the courtroom
trying not to stare,
I think
he was right.
I used to stretch my hand
out in the air,
imagining him holding it
as I walked in the woods.
Now I see
his ringless hand
only holding his own.
We were always holding hands
always within reach.
We couldn’t stand not being in contact.
Now we never talk,
and I understand what he meant.
Hell isn’t the absence,
it’s the inability to change it.
C. S. Fox