tangible but not,
this was how I painted him
that I may see him everyday.
As realistic as I could,
soon I saw him stare back at me.
But then I realized:
even if his face was so close to mine,
his eyes were distant, a gaze so lost.
Even if my hands grazed over his,
our fingers wouldn't entwine, a touch so cold.
I was this close to having him by my side,
but he was still so far away.
You were realistic,
but you weren't real.
sometimes i feel a connection with paintings, as it is with those pictures of you, wjh.