Rime

When they were newly married, they'd sleep in positions which ensured physical contact throughout the night. Sometimes, they'd be face to face so that their foreheads would touch, sometimes, he'd put his arm around her waist and draw her close. She would always end up saying his name out loud in deep sleep.

One morning, she awoke to find him looking her and was thrilled that he'd been watching her sleep. He kissed her on the nose and then lay back looking forlorn.
"What is it my love?" she asked.
"Why do you say his name every night, night after night?" he whispered sadly.
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I hold his hand for lack of something better to do. The distance between where we are and where we should be is immense. The restlessness, anguish and pain of both our beating hearts creates a cocoon inside which we exist in each other's solitude.

If I find what I am looking for, I fear it may be something that will be the manifestation of my vilest most horrid beliefs.
His rancor, through which I have discovered a void within myself where I wish to be buried alive, has made my soul splinter into little pieces which do not feel complete anymore.

They say live... with it.... and without it...

I wish they'd tell me how.