Lonely, just ain’t like it used to be. I guess I’ll settle for a bottle of whisky, if the day moves too slow.

How have I already fallen? I have never seen your face. I’m already aware of the weakness that your smile carries. Every night I feel you, tugging at the very strings of my dreams. A reoccurring vision, sitting on the top steps of union park. Hours of watching strangers in transit, feeling the vibrations of passing trains beneath my feet. All just hoping to feel your ghostly hands graze my shoulders again.

The smell of your perfume swirling closer to my heart with every nervous breath. If I could turn around fast enough maybe you wouldn’t be gone. I know I will eventually find you, somewhere in the slowing of this summers kaleidoscope.

There are days when the past feels like a vivid dream. Even completely gone people still feel within arms reach. In a constant ageless cycle they circle around in your thoughts, until they return. I tend to face these things after the sun is hidden away. A bottle of wine accompanied by hours of staring blankly at the ceiling. Every movement slowly in reverse, every goodbye lost with the untangling of hands. I do my best to focus on the blue of the sky or steadiness of the breeze. Anything at all to try and forget the perfection of your face.

I just want to be at your side when the stars finally decide to crash. 20,000 ft above the shore line, my hand resting over your shoulder. Watching the finale in matching jet black sunglasses.

If I was able to call you, do you think the outcome would be the same. A change in your wedding dress, me in the isle on that day. I’ve been trying to shake things but lately the world just seems so dark. I know everyone’s hiding, the ghosts that tear them apart. I put it all on the surface, hoping the sun would reach my eyes. This room was too clouded, so tomorrow had no sky.

I wish we were back there, holding hands in the Berkshires’ breeze. The light of a fire, your shadow wrapping around me. The world didn’t feel so empty, when you were standing at my side. I reached out with both hands, but the calendar swallowed us inside.

Now I’m here at the lakeside, with a blanket and a bottle of cheap wine. I’m trying to kinder, the spirit that I know you left behind.
I’m just looking to hold her, and tell her what’s on my mind. Tell her I’m sorry, and that I love her, one last time.

Your lips touched my tear soaked cheeks, as the pressure loosened between our hands. My eyes remained fixed on your back, no longer allowing my heart to deceive my eyes.