Ghost

Yes, you're right again.

I don't feel you as well. You're there but I spend more time with strangers. You're there but I know more about the everyday faces I meet in the hallways. You're there but I can't feel you.

You said that maybe that's the appeal of it, that I won't get tired of you. Where would that leave me then? I'll be someone who is attracted to a ghost of a man who is almost non-existent in my world? And you, will it be the same for you? Maybe, maybe not?

Sometimes methinks I'd rather be miserable now and not see a trace of you, than to be miserable for months and years to come because that's all I'll be seeing of you...traces. Bits and pieces that would make me remember every single wonderful thing about you, but not enough matter to conjure a physical image of you in front of me. Sometimes methinks that crying and pining over the might have beens may be better than crying and wishing for a ghost to appear beside me.

You're right, I don't feel you too. Can you? Can you feel me? I'm sure you can't. You asked me why you're near impossible? Because you are. No one can get near enough to know that person behind the mirage. No one can see the physical person amid the smoke of the illusion. Not even me. Especially me.

You're right, I can't feel you. You are near impossible to perceive, a ghost and a mirage. I can't feel you. You're you.