While caught up in the arms of Morpheus
you seem at peace, a ghost of a smile
touching your lips. I wonder if you
might be dreaming of me but then I
stop, realizing that chance is slim.
I think you feel my presence because
the smile leaves your face and you
turn away, blankets pulled over
your head . . . even in sleep you
shut me out.
Gone are those moments on waking
that we look into each others eyes
and smile . . . rare the times we greet
the day caught up in the intimacy of
passion. In my mind I go over once again
every detail of our life together, searching
for that instant when everything changed.
I weep for what is lost and tremble in
fearful anticipation of what the next stroke
of the ax might bring. Can we mend what is
seemingly broken or will the cleaving finally
become whole? When I see you smile again will
it be out of love . . .
or when you say good-bye?
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