Wildly, I shake my head in denial,
certain my subconscious plays,
offering me something I so desire
only to steal him from me again.

Yet he steps ever closer to me,
sad eyes wary as they stare;
his head tilts to the side,
an unasked question revealed.

I cannot breathe in my anxiety,
haunted by his expression.
Does he see me as I do him?
Or is there another in my place?

He stops a few paces away,
one hand reaching, hesitating;
his mouth opens and closes
in a wordless attempt for truth.

His scent rides a passing breeze,
stirring up fragrant memories,
a decandent replay of passions
I'd repressed in my loneliness.

My body closes the scant space
separating our twin shadows,
but I can't cross that last inch,
afraid to disturb the mirage.

Charcoal embers flare deep within,
stealing my breath away
as his fingertips trace my cheek,
birthing tears as they pass.

I lean into his palm as I cry,
and I bury myself in his warmth,
lingering in the calm shelter
I find within his trembling grasp.

"Is it really you?" he whispers,
his lips brushing over my hair.
"Or is this just another dream?
Will I wake up alone again?"

I slip my arms beneath his,
hands walking up his back.
I don't trust myself to speak,
my fear well-fed with doubt.

"Every night, I see you,
a familiar ghost in this place."
His voice wavers, uncertain,
an echo of my own anguish.

"And every morning I awake
to find you lost to my touch."
He hides his face by my ear.
"I cannot bear it anymore."