salutations to the ghost of you

So when you leave like that, you leave me with an air of despondency with a tinge of hope. Everything else shall fly in their own dimensions, until the next time I see you. It’s been great taking with me a little piece of you, for this particular moment in time. And I am satisfied, but I am at a loss for certainty. The days, they find their way through the spaces between my fingers, effortlessly at that, yet I accomplish so little. I live for the little recesses of mystery that is the life of you, and with this I get by. But somehow, I am constantly visited by the notion of never again seeing you, sooner than they ought to register in my senses. I speculate a momentary breakthrough, and possibly a subsequent series of causalities. To be able to drown in those eyes again, for a second that somehow feels like a much longer stretch of time. But with what little days we have left, I could never muster enough courage to get through to you. To desire too much is what ultimately gets to me, and it impairs me to the point of disillusion. I guess, I have begun to like you too much. And as wrong as it is, in the sense of current situational propositions, it makes everything else feel perfectly right for me. Best of all, I feel free. I feel happy and once again, I desire to live, even for the beauty of things as minute as the inflections in the tone of your voice and the array of the letters within your name. With you, I truly see myself. In dreams of you, I am happiest. And so I only ask of you… to linger on.