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love your poem.
This is lovely... a feeling of sadness lurks here. I love it though...
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we are recreated
in sleep, when my senses, like yours, are abandoned.
Sight, imagined. Touch, imagined.
Love
after so many nightmarish trepedations
gave flight to the flightless birds
of joy, of settled peace.
A grimace comes to one of us,
and I reach forward to suspend disbelief,
to willfully bridge the gaps of time, distance, and withered hearts,
I reach forward to give grace to a memory
as I wake to find the misgivings of
empty space beside me
once and again.