Unfinished

Until tonight, I'd never thought about it.
Oh, I'd fantasized about the heat,
remembered our conversations,
smiled as if I could still hear the laughter.
The way you looked at me,
the words you spoke,
your hands wrapped around mine.
"Please...don't go."

I think of these things all the time.
All the time.
But until tonight, I never thought about
the after,
what it might have felt like.
I looked up at the night sky,
thinking,
unfinished,
missing.

What might it have been to lie quietly after,
close and still until steamy bodies cooled,
until minds recovered sentient thought?
Once reoriented to time and place,
the light coming through the window...
what if you could touch me,
see me,
whisper.

At some point, I would like to realize
that days or weeks or months had passed
without you, without my feelings for you.
But now, the sun rises and I think
you are having coffee
listening to birdsong
walking somewhere
writing, writing...

To all the images and memories
floating, flying,
all the work of wrapping my head around
losing you forever,
I now have this new wonderment --
if you had allowed me such a moment,
what would loving you after have felt like?