My course is opposite of yours:
You hasten toward ‘connection,’
I move away, and shut all doors,
Burn bridges by election.
The hardest door to shut is this,
That leads to you, by far
The most resistant door it is—
I leave it just ajar.
Yet, days spent listening for the creak,
That pivot on the hinges,
Wastes day by day and week by week
In fever hot that singes.
Last night I dreamt of you again
And there was so much horror,
Violence in the world of men,
An end-of-times uproar—or:
Perhaps signal to make retreat
Where nary sound my ears may meet
Distracting eyes from page.
*The original last stanza may be better in all ways except metrically:
Maybe a signal to retreat,
Recusal to my hermitage
Where nary sound may ever meet
My ears while eyes survey their page.