I still talk to you, when I close my eyes, days fly by, nights take up all my time.

If only I could conjure your ghost once more. One more kiss, one last goodbye.

Our memories will remain our best kept secrets.
Lingering like held piano keys.

A hand glides gently over the sand, a simple line separates the sea. The sky just mirrors its mass, as I watch it swallow the sun. A single light sits on the horizon line, but only visible amongst the stars.

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.