love’s wine

love is the collapse of relationship—Rupert Spira

my sweetheart’s sleepy
pre-dawn smile
his warm, enfolding arms,
the sense-of-two drops away
there is no he and me

when I breathe
Daphne’s bold bouquet
or sway to strands of flute
what-I-seem-to-be
dissolves
there is no thee and me

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.