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My love
How many times have I said goodbye?
More than a great love.
When one can't say goodbye - is that love?
Or pain realized?
You found your way in.
By teaching me to lead you there.
Not a straight path.
Not obvious, never expected, but consistent nonetheless.
This heavy physiology perceived to be associated with your absence.
Is it to your honor or of my deserving curse?
Both, of course.
My love.
I don't want to cry.
But I must cry to leave you.
To let you go warrants agony.
I looked for you and I.
I looked in unsuspecting landscapes.
We were everywhere but here and there, near.
How does an addict pine for substance?
I am not angry nor frustrated.
Merely sad and alone.
But I don't want company - I'd rather your absence in my presence.
My love.
