I still long for her;
wish I could reach out to her;
wish I could see her;
wish she could see me;
wish I could meet with her;
get to know her;
speak to her;
have her speak with me;
have her care for me;
have her laugh with me;
have her love me.
I wish I could know what it would be like
to have her hold me when I’m grieving.
Wish she would grieve for me,
if she experienced me leaving.
Wish she would care, wish she would care.
I wish she could be there.
She is but a shadow of a memory of someone that did exist;
someone I can’t help but miss.
She is a shadow of someone I long to be;
someone who resembles the things I know are in me.
She is an ideal archetype of a woman who is loved, gives love and lives love.
Comforted and supported by her environment,
brought up with the privilege of never having felt unwanted.
Brought up with a sense of having somewhere to belong to;
the luxury of always having a place to come back to.
No, I don’t need to be her, but I want to meet her, ask her questions...
I want to understand what it is that I have long longed for.
And I don’t want her to be a ghost that haunts me anymore.
Written on October 13th, 2016