Unreachable

When you read to me that night, you touched me deep inside without letting your hands off that yellow paper. It was slow and gradual, like wine diffusing in my senses. The warmth of your words comforted my skin. My cheeks felt the tears rolling down your cheeks. I could not lift my arms. I could not hold you. You seemed unreachable in your own world. Yet you touched me as if through a different dimension. The piano next to you played a familiar tune. I remember it was what I had asked for, to be played, at my funeral. I loved every note the piano was playing. I was drenched in fragrance of white flowers placed next to my bed. Candles and letters, they were all for me. I saw everything and felt everything yet couldn't reach anything. I looked at you. Your eyes were swollen and you were whimpering soft words of the first poem you had written for me. I looked beautiful in the white. I knew you loved me. And I loved you too. But how could I have told you? You seemed unreachable.