Detached

In sleepless dreams of you,
my love, I wonder where you are,
your alien presence being out of touch
but still so near, invisible but palpable.
The question is, can we get closer
than we are now in our total distance?
As if we live in two different continents,
an ocean parting us incurably
with hostile black and icy waters,
we are out of touch
but still not with each other.
I can feel you in the air,
and I must admit to the confession,
that I never did enjoy a presence more.