The edge of other peoples lives

I'm standing on the edge and you are on the other side. It is unclear if you are waiting for me or not. But what is becoming more and more apparent is that we are spending our lives looking for things in the wrong places. You left the party a long time ago and all that remains is the crumpled photo I have kept in my pocket I use least often in a way to keep you at a distant to stop my heart from breaking. I'm good at keeping a distance even if it hurts me secretly to do so. Making a big song and dance has never been the way I do things, if it is right it will come back like that bird who comes and visits daily to sing to me in our garden. The sounds just can not reach others in this way. Its different with us, I can't put my finger on the exact point of what it is, its a feeling that is out there in the air and will never fade. Its simple. We are on the edge of other peoples lives. And your name is painted in big letters all over the places I find myself in. I hope the noise will reach you one day.