I’m sitting there on the love seat, alone. The cup of tea in my hand has grown cold with the hours, lonely with the empty years. I can’t help but glance to the void at my side. I want someone there, the yearnings have gotten so bad, it hurts. I’d take anyone there, but really, I know I’d only take him. I see him everywhere, but can never quite grasp him. Memories flicker through my mind, like an endless movie reel, but every time I reach out, they vanish, leaving me with nothing but my hand in the air. I can smell his fragrance on the pillow cases, but it’s faded to unrecognition. His hot breath tickles my neck, but painfully fades away, never does it linger. His eyes twinkled but they’ve dulled with each passing day. I used to hear his laughter, his voice, but now he is mute. The most painful though, I’ve lost the feel of his hand in mine. He’s phantom; I know he’s gone.