Recall not long ago

those beautiful words you wrote?

Caring phrases

that touched the deepest part

of my human soul?

You said you felt things

things you had long since gone away.

I took the pain,

the anguish,

and healed you.

Then the fear came.

You were afraid to hurt me

to make me cry.

Yet somehow,

the boy who wrote to me those words

disappeared.

vanished.

The boy who "strove to make this last"

to be as "wonderful" as he could,

faded from my happy view.

I know it wasn't perfect,

I didn't want it to be.

But I have to draw the line

at treachery.

The boy once told me:

"If it all ends,

if it was all just a dream,

I will cherish those moments for a lifetime."

How I long to fall back into sleep

to see that boy,

the boy of my dreams.

He's still there,

I can feel him.

Hiding beneath the surface of a twisted face.

I want to push him out,

to see him again,

but I can't force a human soul to be

what it's not.

So I write these words,

trying to connect to that boy I once met.

And tell him I still love him.

That I'm waiting for him yet.

Sometimes it's hard,

and I want to scream and yell at him to fight

to fight for me

for life.

But I can't.

I can't make him grow up and fight.

I'd simply push the boy I once knew

farther away.

So I take out old photos

and old poetry

and read the lines over and over,

trying to recapture a memory.