When you see glimpses
of me walking through the hallway,
climbing out of my car,
and holding the door for the person behind me;

When you see
my eyes blinking,
my legs moving,
and my hands grasping a pen
   that is moving across a page;

When you hear
the rhythmic beat of my heart,
the soft breaths exiting my body,
and the words that flow out of my mouth;

it seems so real to you.
(It is not to me)

I am not talking and walking
   and pumping and breathing.
My body is
I am not here;
I am in a place that does not exist.
I haven't come back in years (I've tried)
*Do you think that I will ever return?