The dance of he and she.

Lover waits,
in quiet opposition,
waiting for her to come.
Quiet sits he,
as couples quarrel,
within listening distance of him.
Nothing says he,
as minutes tick by,
and she is no where to be seen.
Nothing does he do,
as pain sweeps over,
those in proximity.
No where can he go,
as moments grow,
listening for her voice.
Actions he won't take,
play out around him,
in a sob, or a weep, or a cry.
Movements he won't act,
watching the stark white walls,
with nothing but hope.
Something he can't do,
happens for him,
in the action of child who let go.
And then he knows,
she is gone,
he cannot wait,
he cannot be quiet,
he cannot go home,
he cannot do that,
he will never do that,
he should never put her,
to rest,
out of thought,
out of mind,
out of life,
out of spirit,
forever.
It doesn't matter,
she is dead,
she is gone,
she is silenced,
she is ascending,
never to come back.
He will remember,
he will stay,
he will continue,
he will mourn,
he will laugh again,
he will love again,
for her sake.
Because,
she is watching,
she is waiting,
she is hoping,
she is praying,
for him to be whole
again.