Softly Letting Go

Courtesy of TypesofKissing.com










At two-thirty,
very carefully,
quietly,
I lift the dirty-white blanket
to get up in bed.
I glance a few
making sure
not to disturb you.
I walk to your side,
and sit on the floor
enjoying the view:

You,
in this rarest early morning
when your snoring
has gone AWOL.
I grin coz it’s adorable!
Though the clock
is a relentless irk,
I can’t deny joy:
This, seeing you in peace-
I have not seen
you so at rest
for quite long.

Still,
into you still:
Staring,
memorizing,
trying
to embed
in my eyes,
in my head,
in my mind
every fine line,
every defining curve,
every minute mole
in your face.

I admit
having the second,
the third,
the fourth thought
of letting you go.
But we both know
right
owns the last
and final word.


In silent tears,
I move closer a little above your ear,
smelling your hair
for one last time.
Kiss is a luxury
parting hearts can’t afford.
So I close my heavy lids
thinking our lips
are rich–
and they indulge.








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