Somewhere between the silence of night and day, you appeared.

Quietly. and like a cloud that hovers suspended too low to be  part of the summer sky, too grey to be real, too close to touch, not really there, you hover in my mind somewhere in the background. Watching me.

how to explain the need to see your photograph, to read your words.

Little pieces of something. The random drops from that same cloud, too few to quench a thirst, or broad to give shade. But they linger. And tempt me.

And I would rather have you appear throughout the day in my travels on some indiscriminate road when I look to the sky for relief from the noise of the world around me. A silver form placed off to the right and centered, just for me. I see angels in the background, as I feel your breathe on my cheek.

If I wanted I could reach out and touch  the surface, if I could believe I could close my grip and feel the substance of so much strange emotion. To soften  my edges and give me comfort.

If I could touch your hands, and feel the tender release of so many defenses. Hold them until substance is emotion. I could hold them to my lips and in silence find peace.

Like that single floating form in my illusion’s caress, let everything I feel that you could be absorb into my frame and stir something like a kiss on my lips.

Yielding everything, being nothing.

It’s better that way.

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