What was warranted could not be
more out of lingering fingers reach,
but vainly was the goal still paused upon,
teased with the view of what each wanted.
But stagnant were there endeavours
for but a centimetre,
a vastness that could not be gauged by touch
yet palms were placed.
An innuendo of what could be but was not,
there love was undeniable but their reality
was a vacant space in their hearts.
And they sat back to back on this
immovable obstacle,
mourning the need to be in the grasp of another.
No tears were shown to the other but in solace
they fell like monsoons on the ground,
all emotions were departed from there clouds
of white that blinked upon time and then stopped.
They never gave up on the motions that stirred
within and even though time
is finite and what was unforgiving
in there needing was no longer.
But time is no friend to love, and bones were
all that was evidence of what once was.
Gazing with empty sockets eternally
gazing on the other.
But where that which kept them apart had now
parted hands of white,
now clasped within each others touching.
For an eternity where in the echoes of the past
which could not be obtained
was now holding on in death.
Vacant puddles stare into each other
and where there was two singular
now they are silently holding on to each other.
