Ode to a stranger (but not by choice)

You are not so much a stranger,

as an impossibility.

You will never be more than,

statistical irony.

The idea-

my soulmate,

just a little bit off,

not a lot,

but enough to ensure,

we'll always be strangers,

as is appropriate.

We're both good people;

to be together...

it would nullify our character,

the reason we attract,

the reason we love-

But no,

that is not our future,

not this life.

I wonder if I was late,

if we were lived these lives before,

but I died just a few years after you,

just a few years,

enough to change a fate,

enough for our lives to go off track.

But now you are a stranger,

and I am a stranger to you.  

(We are still drawn together,

but that is where we draw the line.)