Troy, your poem touched me. I was just going to nibble on it, but it drew me in, and I found myself (to my surprise) reading it out loud. Perhaps it reminded me of one of my favorite poems, Ash Wednesday, by TS Eliot, a poem which spirals through the pain of renunciation, as yours, perhaps, spirals through the pain of love:

Because I’d loved her more than anyone
That I had met before, much more than I
Should have, I came in to this crisis and the sun

(a lovely enjambment)

Slow-setting on my spirit, made this cry
Go echo deeper through the lonely lands.

and spirals:

Provoking reason now asks me, a plea:
Should I try to connect — or should I flee?

and spirals:

Provoking reason now asks me, a plea:
Why couldn’t reason help me to get out?

And TS Eliot too spirals through the pain of his Conversion:

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn

and spirals:

Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things

and spirals:

(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

and spirals:

Because I do not hope to know
The infirm glory of the positive hour

As Emily Dickinson once said, truth may require a slanted approach(or, in your case, a spiraling approach).