Those Burdens... Poem by RIC BASTASA

sometimes inside the hotel when
you are with me and you open my bag
and check on my necessities
when i lay my body in bed and
stare at the ceiling when the noise
of little things can be heard as
chatter and when you do not stop
talking about us: our direction,
future, visions and destinations
etcetera....
i begin to think of regret having you
all the way here
sometimes, though i will not tell you,
i miss my being alone
with myself, without uttering any word
and yet feeling so complete and
relieved.