He stands with me,
near me, so near me…
mere feet away,
with the grace of
normality…

His body language,
warm and charming,
exuberant and welcoming.

His crew cut,
always the same,
never long enough to play with,
to dive into.

His deep white smile,
forever warm and cheeky,
unchanged.

His deep, soft voice
a familiar tune,
effortlessly outdoing
any voice, any sound in the room.

His sculptured body,
hard and strong,
soft and gentle,
mine;
all mine.

I bite my lip,
a gentle frown creases my forehead;
his chocolate eyes stare through me,
ignorant to my agony,
my confusion.

He stands here,
real and solid;
no illusion of his presence,
but he is a shadow;

the shadow of what was
once mine.