Turning

I first see
your form spilling out of the familiar frame,
now a heap of the giant that you were

I gaze
into your watering eyes, they have lost their sea luster
green and magnetic light

I resist
the hold of your embrace, pulling away
a few seconds too quickly

I miss
 the seal of your kiss, turning a corner
of my mouth too sharp

I inhale
your stale sweat, deeply hemming
the growing distance

I calm
my breath, my heartbeat
down to polite deference

I am stunned
 as my body translates decades of longing
into a code of severing

I destroy
the mold of attachment
with the detachment of an invader

It was never us,
the sorrow is even parsed