I have no volition
beyond the last look you left in my eyes,
your last touch cold upon my skin.
The press of an unfulfilled quest
impels us us onward
beyond all reason and restraint–
slow dancing a choreographed waltz
until the music stops.
The steamy tango has melted into memory.
The bonds that hold us unbind–
Frayed ties unfastening
as we extricate ourselves from
the promises written as Scripture to live by
to be renounced and left lorn;
The mode, the manner and the tempo has yet to be decided.
No one wants to be the first to say goodbye.