Ghost

The image had been a blur
A flurry of colors in her eyes
that should have made no sense

And yet

She saw the deep chocolate eyes that she never wanted to stop gazing into…
       (You always did have beautiful eyes.)
     …The almost charcoal black hair that would tangle in her grip…
           (Your hair is still so messy.)
         … Could almost, almost feel those long, deft fingers holding onto her clasped hands…
                   (I could never tire of those hands.)
                       …And the flush pouting lips that had always told her sweet things…
                               (You lied to me. With that mouth, you told such beautiful lies.)

It was him.

She could see Him.

The white cold was no longer there,
The tomb before her (before them) no longer held any meaning to her,
Sensibility no longer mattered

Because he was there.

At least in that moment…


And then a gust of wind
And suddenly the colors, the image, the man, were scattered away from her

With nothing but a whisper

And she stood in Astonishment, Happiness, Agony

The frayed image of him in a kaleidoscope of warm familiar hues
Ingraining itself in her memories
As well as the echo of words that could only ever be his

"I am here…I love you much too strongly to lie…"

And once again, he was gone much too soon.