Conversations with you.

I was talking to you the other day,

In my head, like I usually do.

This and the many strains of my madness,

I know you know them all,

And laugh at them in your own certain way.

I know the way your eyes crinkle,

And I see them, when I make a joke,

In my head, when you laugh with me,

And name the same things with alarming regularity.

When you cradle my head in your imaginary hands,

And I sense that when I talk,

You don’t wander off, or stop to stare.

In my moments with you, you’re there.

When my sadness is shared with a wraith of you,

And I know that my hand would have been held,

With your presence and everything it implies.

I still talk to you, and I know that you listen,

Because it is not just fate that when I shout in my head,

You reply.


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