We had a conversation today.
A real conversation.
The first one in four months,
If we could call the last one that.
Four months.
Four months of tension.
Four months of self-doubt.
Four months of I-hope-I-don't-see-you-because-I-don't-know-what-to-say.
Four months of hope.
Four months of expectation.
A one hour conversation.
Telling you I'm going to be authentic and vulnerable,
But fighting back my tears so you don't see.
Asking you to be honest with me,
But hearing you filter your words.
We fell so hard so fast
When I think about where we were
Four months ago.
A ghost.
A ghost of a friend who is there,
Except that he isn't.
A ghost of trust without reservation,
Of shared raw, authentic pain,
Of laughter, of life, of mutual understanding.
A ghost that I'm ready to say goodbye to,
Until it sneaks up behind me when I least expect it.
A ghost that reminds me of the life I had,
And the friendship we shared,
Four months ago.
The want to share it again.
To share our lives, our dreams, our fears.
To trust you again.
To love you again.
But just as I reach out to touch it,
It disappears.
A ghost, floating through the seconds,
The minutes, the hours, the days,
The weeks, the months, the years
Of what could have been.
A ghost that haunts me,
A ghost that always will.
