Among this wide range of such intimate secrets
I lie.
Guess how.
And long for a kiss from a nearly strange in such intimate ways:
never touching for a whole day
never fought about a real thing
never met a single relative
never took care of your migraine -
I just seem to feed it instead;
just seem to feed the distance.
(I) just seem to know you by far.
Can you guess how I lie now?
I lie coldly without you.
(and yet that's not the answer)
So long -
not for long.
