You know you are tasting together
The winter, or light spring weather.
His hand to take your hand is overmuch.
Too much to bear.
You cannot look in his eyes
Because your pulse must not say
What must not be said.
When he
shuts a door-
Is not there-
Your arms are water.
And you are free
With a ghastly freedom.
You are the beautiful half
Of a golden hurt
You remember and covet his mouth,
This is an oxymoron. It refers to the freedom from the confinement of a failing relationship, but it’s also frightening. It’s nearly a punishment for this girl to be without this guy. 

To be in love