Next to Near
Amidst a lonely grotto
Of phantom blossoms
And scourged repose,
I smile alone
Through the recollection
Of the empty touch
Once handed me
By your gentleness of warmth
That was the morning
You had grown tired
Of coffee scribbles
And hesitant awakenings
When upon your entering
Our bedroom,
Had sensed you pause
In contemplative stillness
While either waking,
Our just joining me instead
Furthered their deliberation
I wanted you there, right next to me
Wanted your comfort of proximity
Come exploring me intimately
I even felt your eyes
When studying me
Through silent limbo
And tenuous discernments
Grappling with whether
Your teaching me
Of how not to love you anymore,
Had truly convinced you
As to why I still should
Amidst a lonely grotto
Of phantom blossoms
And disinherited warmth,
I weep, alone,
Through thoughtful tears
Of vanquished beauty
Now inherent to my cold reality.
