Stay with me.
"Be" with me.
Your hand lost in mine.
The silence a sign
Of unrequited fine whine.
The same clear tears,
Shed over years.
Does it ever get better?

Seek solace in me,
Warm bodies pressed.
I'm on some quest,
Endless and repressed.
To find "you,"
Whoever you are.
The comfort I need.
Accompanied
By supposed mind-read.
And then to my delusion
I am remarried.

Your hands must be lost in mine.
Because I can no longer bear this vine
Untangling, uncoiling, unweaving and

Alone.