Poetry / Don't Answer Me

I find myself, back turned,
Listening to the rustle of your leaving
One last glance brushes
Across the back of my neck, as if

You’d actually touched me.

A ritual we have devised
No fears, no breath, no goodbyes
No final words, not even
Temporary ones to bide us until

The next time that we meet.

I can feel you, hovering,
Wanting so to whisper something
But wanting no words
To lie between us should we never

Meet again.

Turning my head, I smile
A soft, gentle goodbye, spoken with
The only language we use
Then look back through the window

Listening to the door close
Wondering if it will ever again open
To your loving face
Or if this was our final goodbye.

Running my fingers over
The cool window as you leave me
I see you look back
Your final words ones of love

And I smile again

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