Reality Check

This was forever.  Now it is forever changed, 

the promise remaining, impossible to break. 

How to let go, the anguish grounds me, 

keeps me coming back, 

anxious, 

demanding more each time it fades, 

the resonance wafting out, out in waves 

once washed over me. 

Upside down and stealthy, barely brushing your left cheek, 

my right hand would reach close, 

touch you, just touch and not to wake. 

The wildman snores, busy, running 

through a dream of bouncing leaves 

and stranger scents, so new and strong, 

two-hundred times more interesting 

than any rose, it's petals ripe for pounce (and eating).

Left hand lowers, rests upon the queen's soft countenance.  

If she awakens, she will move; touch lightly, 

just for reassurance.

Where I go now, I work alone. 

You rarely visit.  You, who lay at Psyche's gate,
are everything that calls me to return.