Where do you go when you are not here,
when your eyes look inward,
and you see nothing?
Why this secret place, this retreat,
safely hidden away…
Is it our past you run from?
Or perhaps present pain drives
This is worse than being alone.
At least then I can close my eyes
and pretend I am with you,
pretend you still care.
But we are past that and I am not
am no longer what you want.
But neither of us are ready to admit this.
So we sit in silence as you stare nowhere,
and I am left wondering how everything
It was easy once,
when we knew what we wanted
and how to get there,
and were certain it would happen together.
But that was when we were strangers,
daily introducing ourselves,
“This is me, this is who I am, only with you
can I be more. Love me.”
And yet, I draw comfort from contemplating
the end with you near.