I read a post that discussed how often those who have been traumatized cling to mystery. While I don't consciously identify with my traumas, there is some mystery in you...that I find so deeply exhilarating. No fluff. You are the most intriguing person I have ever met. It's been almost 14 years.

14 years of trying to find your essence in others and being disappointed.

14 years of an ongoing personified poem in the shape of a golden man, whose skin radiates like the sun, and in the darkness of winter, a soft, beige with a moonlit reflection.

14 years of the fear of forgetting your face and everything that you do.

14 years of missing your darkened silhouette...walking away.

Truly.

This is how I remember you, and yet, it feels like a fake glimpse of my brain holding onto a vivid dream of who I think you are. And I feel bad and invasive. It's not right or fair to you.

How I used to wish that if you were lonely, I could be the one to hold that place...even for just a little while.