I See You

I see you when you invite me into your dreams; a playland where we toy with the idea of us. I see you in the memories of smiles we met and laughter we wooed into coming home with us like an innocent ménage à trois. But when my eyes open, I do not see you. When my eyes skim the length of my arm I do not see your hand at the end, holding mine. So why is it that I can still hear you breathing? Why can I see sense your presence, just outside my reach? Are you lingering because you choose to or because I wish you to choose to?

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