I would tell him about my day, we would go out to dinner together, or eat in, then we would go home. We would sleep together and we would wake up next to each other and start another day.
But he wasn't really there. He was just a figment of my imagination. No one could see him, but I could feel him. Everywhere I went, I wanted him there so much that, I could feel his presence.
I talked to him all the time. And although in the real world, he didn't really know what was going on in my life, I told him every day in my mind. It was only when I dreamt that he was really there.
After a while, the ghost left. It had been so long since the real person had gone that even the ghost that lingered started to fade away.
But he was in my thoughts, I could remember him. How he felt, the warmth of his skin, how he tasted, the sound of his voice, how it felt to touch him and love him, but I couldn't feel him anymore. He wasn't there.
The ghost had left and all that was left was the memory.
I knew that sooner or later even the memory would fade. But I didn't want to let it go because then I really would be alone.
"Yesterday, upon the stair
I met a man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
I wish, I wish he'd go away...
When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn't see him there at all"
(Antigonish by Willaim Hughes Mearns)
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