The Mute Stencil

To be apart
from you sweetheart
could be for the best;
but when you're with me
in you I see
a visage beyond the rest.
Do you know that I
who had never known
the sweetness of caresses
would now exchange all metaphors
 in return for a word
wrenched from my nib
like Adam's rib ?
My dearest,
when hands fall away from poems
can I touch your face--forlorn--
so much, so much like my own ?