Phantom blossoms of repose
Fall remissive
Unto my solemn grotto
Where I smile, alone
With empty hand
Felt out of touch
From your gentle 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
To come exploring me with intimacy
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
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