• I pulled him close to my small, petite person loving his smell. My hazel eyes were closed to the world being that I didn’t want to face harsh realities. I didn’t want to face anything outside this amazing moment; a perfect moment of frozen time. He held me close and kissed my long, pale neck. Cold air licked my arms and legs as we lay in my bed but his searing embrace distracted my mind from it. He placed a large strong hand on my cheek and I relished in the feel. His touch always made me feel whole, complete. His entire being seemed to fill my soul and spirit. It was like I was a start to a marvelous masterpiece that only he could finish. His lips brushed my cheek bone then my small, round nose. He then moved to my forehead, and lastly traveled to my expectant lips. His kiss sent all thought away. My usually plagued mind was clear of all debauched thought. It was only him. Nothing else. The world could’ve have ended and I wouldn’t have noticed. His soft, smooth as satin lips caressed mine while we intertwined ourselves on top of my emerald cotton bed spread. In my world of bliss I had forgotten about the realm of melancholy outside him and I; so I opened my eyes.
    When my hazel orbs looked to the spot where he laid, the only thing there was to see was a large pillow wrapped in my arms. Anger and grief filled me fast and I threw it again the wall opposite my bed. It was my mind again I though as tears dashed down my face. I sat up while pulling my squat legs up to my torso and wrapping my arms around them. My body rocked back and forth on its own accord. My mind couldn’t seem to process anything right. I couldn’t take the pain and the heartache, I needed him.
    Just as soon as the though came he stood before me. A slow soft smile played at the corners of my mouth. He came again looking just as he did the day of his funeral, handsome in his custom tailored suite, curly brown hair and dark green eyes. He then stretched his right hand towards me silently as he has down every night since he died. I watched him with sad eyes letting all of my want and longing shine in them then fall away in my salty tears. Hesitantly I reached for him with my own trembling hand. Why do I set myself up for failure I ask nonverbally. I now the outcome yet I always do the exact same thing.
    When we reached each other’s hands and when we were supposed to touch never exactly happened. My hand only grasped air and his ghostly hand only wavered when mine sank through it. Although I knew I wouldn’t be able to actually touch him it hit me hard every time my hand passed through his. And seeing his miserable features only made that blow tougher to endure. I cried even harder now thinking how I’d never feel his caress again, how we never laugh at old movies, how we’d never kiss, how I’d never even see him again expect with the figments of my broken imagination. It hurt my heart and wounded me marrow deep. There was no way I could do it; I wasn’t strong enough to face the punitive world on my own.
    I fumbled to get out of my bed and stumbled down the bright yellow hall towards the kitchen. Hastily I rummaged through the drawers looking for a specific item. At my third drawer I found it then held it up staring at its gleaming steel admiringly. Sharp didn’t even begin to explain the magnificent knife. Deadly only came so close. It would only take one swiftly movement. Then I wouldn’t have to hurt any longer. That though sounded lovely; no more pain, nor grief. I looked down while aligning the blade with my heart letting auburn hair veil my face. With one silent apology to God I nimbly pushed the blade through. This time when he reached for me I was able to take his hand.