I see your words or the pictures with your handwriting or the messages on electronic formats and the plump lips you love to curl. Reading them, I read it like you. I know you too well, your paces, your faces, your sound, the vibrato, the feel in the ground when I’m on the chair with one leg under and the other on the floor when we talk. I know you. I know what you like and dislike about the world (mostly), about you and about me. It’s been months and I can’t let go of you, I can’t let go of your smell and your smirk. Remember when you drove 3 hours from a meeting like a lunatic to check on me at lunchtime? It’s the sweet things, the thoughtful things I miss about having a you. But then there’s the times I can’t sleep and I want to sleep but you’re there and I crave you. I can’t have you, I’ve killed you. You left me before I could kill you. Death did us part. When I see the things that remind me of you, I hear you. Wonderful things happened after you said hello. But everything changed when you didn’t say goodbye. You’re lingering here, give me the strength to let you go. Please, stop, haunting.