The Haunting

At least once a week I am swept away to a time  in my life where evrything was grand.

where I was happy and so much in love with a girl that everything she did was majic.

for those few hours a week I can be with her again, smell her hair, touch her skin and be happy once more.

for those few hours I can feel whole again.

I’m happy, everything I do is with a confidence I havent felt since that time.

for those few hours I can feel what Love really is.

then I wake up.

Missing her and wondering if she ever thinks about me.

Wondering if she would ever take me back.

Hoping she doesnt go through the same remorseful feelings that I do.

because it didnt work out.

which is all my fault.

I am Haunted by the greatest Love I will more than likely ever know in this life.

When I wake up and realise it was just a dream I am overcome with a sadness that is so Intense words will never begin to describe it.

I long for her in hopes that one day on some cosmic level she will understand just how much I love her.

Hoping that my phone will ring and she will be on the other end telling me she wants to see me.

It’s a hope that drives me to the near brink of insanity.

I havent been with anyone since her that has ever measured up to her.

I know I never will.

I sometimes wish my mind could be erased of her.

So that I could have my own eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

But then I wouldnt know what Love is and all the joy and pain that comes with it.

I will always cherish her memory.

I will always be in Love with her.

I wll always feel guilty for the way I handled things at the end.

I will always be angry with the "friend" that convinced me she was cheating on me.

Filling my head full of doubts about her.

I will always be alone.

Because I am Haunted by her and will continue to be until she comes back to me.

So, i’ll die an old man full of regret and lonely because I know we would still be together today if only  Ihad waited for her to clear her head.

I miss Michelle and one hope that one day she reads this and can fully understand how much in Love i was and continue to be with her.

How I would walk through the pits of hell to bring her a flame to keep her warm on a cold night.

How if we were starving I would give her the last piece of food I had, just to quiet her hunger. If only for a moment.

How everything I do from this point on is in hopes that she comes back to me one day.

I havent seen her face in almost 14 years, nor have I had a picture of her in just as long.

But,  I bet I could describe her to you as if she was sitting right next me.

She possessed more beauty in one little writers bump than all of the great works of all the great masters of art did in their entire bodies of work.

She was my Rembrandt. My Picasso. My Dali.

Without her in my life I will NEVER feel complete again.