LOVE'S METONYMY

Now, time has come full circle
back to where we began - these words
unwritten, but spoken face-to-face.
Ah, such joy - truth is, last night I invaded

your aura in search of belonging,
my only bearings a juvenile obsession.
And, there, in imagination's furthest reaches
we touched - just for one mad, crazy instant.

It was the silence that provoked me -
and the absence of your physical warmth, as I lay curled
like a foetus, haunted by our shared history:
shrivelling here, cold as winter's frozen wasteland,

until daybreak...'til this...this torment
that defines my future in it's entirety took over.
And from the depths, what self-survival withheld
in compassion was brutally revealed.

For separation is our love's cruel metonymy,
and ours is this barren real world's
hollow persuits, that can neither comfort nor fulfill
the heart's endlessly brooding, desperate need.