I take in the lines of your face, every crevice every crack. He often jokes that I could draw him with my eyes closed at this point.
But he lets me stare, he lets my trace my fingers over his stubbled cheek and strong jaw.

I study his movements, how his brow furrows whenever I trace his cupids bow. I then make my way down towards his hands, one the gently clasps the worn book I had gotten him.
He reads it over and over, the same page.

I clasp the other and attempt the stroke the harshness away.
The ***** fingernails, from planting my roses, even though I always insist we could have the gardeners do it.
The bumpy palm, filled with white scars that he never forgets,
I do not mind for it gives me more to remember of him.
More to savor.

I decide to lift his hand up under the candlelight, examining the jagged lines that make him so much more.
A few are still tender he tells me.
How did they happen I ask?
He does not reply, only starts again at the top of the same page.

I lean back, examining the flicker of yellow in his eyes, in the candlelight it seems to turn golden.
Your eyes make you look unreal my love,
I say adoringly looking to the candle.
That’s because I am.
I snap my head back towards him.
But now there is no gold, only white.
And my hand turns cold and heavy.
For he is gone, only half of him remains.

I see you behind clouds grey
The beaming sunshine after a storm
Evidence of beauty in tragedy

I see you in glistening oceans
Unsure of the waters awaiting past horizon
Evidence of beauty in uncertainty

I see you in dancing fields
The swaying of grass to the perennial hum of the wind
Evidence of beauty in tranquil

I see you in a tight hug
The comfort it offers
Evidence of beauty in safety

I see you in every little thing
Because people believe what they want to believe
People see what they ought to see

And I believe that I see you in all the beautiful things —
Evidence of love so pure.

I hope you do, too
If you could just see me too.

sometimes I feel like you're dead to me
you're merely a face from long ago that use to comfort me
and...
tell me everything would be alright.

why do I keep coming back to you?
holding on to the hope of seeing you again,
when you're smiling, breathing...
returning to that beauty I used to know.
back then, it was so unfamiliar.
the sound of being so close, that unwanted feeling.

now you are the one who is unfamiliar to me.
have you changed, were you a different person then?
was I close friends with a ghost,
whose hands I could not reach....
was it all simply an illusion?

why am I here? why are you here?
do I miss you... or....
do I miss... the old you?
the version of yourself that died long ago?

maybe things have changed too quickly,
and I've failed to catch up,
you have focused on yourself,
while I was wrapped up in my thoughts.

I don't know why I keep coming back to you,
or why I can't let go.
why is it so difficult?
just....
why?

all I know at this point,
all I've ever known is,
I was closer with you than anyone else... even more than her.
and when I cried in front you,
that created something special, a sort of bond that I had never felt before then and...
haven't felt since either.

you know that feeling too.
because when you become close with someone,
and you show them just how much of a mess you are...
it changes things, at least for me.

things change even more when that same person,
who's seen more of your flaws than anyone else,
decides to turn their back on you,
and call you horrible things.

saying "you're selfish", "you're a narcissist",
throwing insults at you while you're trying your best and trying to help.
but when it comes down to it, you have to take care of yourself too.
maybe that is the reason, I don't feel anything when I'm around you.

maybe that is the reason I'm with your ghost.
because the you that I had known is dead to me.

I've always hated the term
"hauntingly beautiful."

it's what they say when
a sight gives you chills
and your heart aches
and your eyes tear up.

I understand the meaning,
but I hate how it's worded.
that phrase confuses me

because once, I knew
a girl who wasn't
hauntingly beautiful.

when I looked at her,
I didn't get chills
and my heart didn't ache
and tears never formed
in the corners of my eyes

but dear god,
she was beautiful
in a way that I don't
have the words to describe.



she was so
unbelievably beautiful

and to this day,
she still haunts me.

Two years on, the bank bought the house
Your mother tried but couldn't make the payments
I tried as I could but couldn't keep it going
So many memories just left to fade

No trace of life, no trace of a body
You just went clear off the edge of the earth
Didn't bring a map, didn't plan to come back
Did you suffer, Gillian?

There'll always be part of me that remembers
But I know that there's always something missing
I'll try to move forward from this loss
But how could I make sense of it all?

I've been holding it all together for too long now
So much so I've forgotten myself
Been trying to be stronger than I used to be
Rebuilding to learn to love someone else

Where does love go?
Where does it bleed out?
What can be done to stem the flow
What can quell the hurt, what can ebb the tide?

Where does love go?
Where does love lost get found again
When does it stop hurting so much?
Oh, does it ever really stop?

Can I try to make connections new
With the ghost of you
Still lingering 'round all I know?
Can I try to keep my heart aligned
And try to pretend I'm alright
With you still missing from my life?