You can see him in your mind.
A pristine vision as if it occurred only seconds, rather than years beforehand.
His soft voice tickles your ear.
His scent just out of your reach; To touch him as easy as extending your hand for him.
Yet you know that once you do, that fragile invocation ripples and shatters outward like watery reflections.
So you refrain.
He's immortal: will never age; can never change.
His thoughts towards you remain the same and forevermore as it was in distant past.
Maybe this way is better.
That grand portrait hung in your mind hides a shadow; unacknowledged:
He's different now.
A foreigner compared to that grand portrait you've painted.
Why are you paralyzed by the thought that, should Fate decide to grant you another chance and resurrect him for you, you'd abandon all for him?
When you know that even though should you receive him once more, he's no longer who you sought.
Why grasp the ethereal; things lost forever in time?
Is it love for him that has been rendered unquenchable, or deep-seated regrets of wrongs that can not be righted?
Perhaps you will never know.
Perchance you are cursed to have his ghost forever haunting the dark hallways of your thoughts.