Each day, I go through the motions.
Get up and try to be excited about the day.
Take advantage of all the patterns,
Coffee, drive to work, familiar greetings,
To those with whom I work.
Boot the computers, tend to business.
Check on the machines,
That all need to work.
The lucky ones who have power to reveal,
The structure of things they feel.
Another hour and I'm sitting there,
Hoping for a crisis to occupy my mind.
Sooner or later though,
I know it will happen.
You will be my focus again.
The images and feelings come flooding back in.
The excitement and tingle of your hand in mine.
The softness of your head on my shoulder.
The soft smiles you lent and the warmth of your eyes.
All proof of the chemistry between us.
No relief found there, the routine continues.
The encouraging warm and sincere things you said.
All the beautiful things you wrote.
The thrill of an email or my phone flashing.
The calming quality of your voice on my phone.
My mind passes over all those data.
The machine it is has no choice but to look for why.
Processing, sorting, sifting for the reason,
Again finds nothing but teasers.
Just your single wish for it to be undone.
It's then that the wrenching sadness overwhelms,
Bringing with it the tears that then rust and degrade.
Corroding contacts can't find the logic anymore,
Until the simple machine shuts to reboot in confusion.
And I die just a little more.