"She made me feel human. That's not the sort of thing you just forgive..."

She's gone.

No.
I'm gone.
She's missed.

I ran three thousand miles
And talked to a hundred other women
And scorched my soul
And drowned my thoughts
And worked to exhaustion
And still the last waking image before me
Is her

I aimed to skewer my heart to hers.
I missed.

Her face and eyes linger at night
Her touch has bleached my skin
Our missed opportunity for a kiss
Remains emblazoned and screaming
On a lifelong list of fearful regrets

I reached for a handhold.
I missed.

I twisted her
So reality and fantasy were warped and wrong
I got wrapped up in it
I leapt at it
I missed and hanged from it

And still she haunts me
A ghost of the living
A scar inside my eye
I stab and swing
To slay the spectre
But horrid urges
Will not be wrought upon her
And every attempt to remove her
Is just flailing
Like a madman at the fog
Like kicking at dew
Like shooting at mist...