You are there.

I see you in this musty diner,
sitting across from me on the weathered and
worn-in earthy booth. You sit there
staring at the menu, trying to pick a dish,
when we both know you won't venture
away from your favorite, your "go-to",
your security in a world of not's.
Your subtle smirk tells me, I am right.

I feel you there next to me,
as we get lost in conversations about lasting impressions,
string theory and who's on first.
I see the spark on your tongue as the words
bellow from your gut.
I can feel your breath on my cheek
as you dust your lips on mine.
and your pearlescent blue eyes
are absorbing my whole essence
in this moment.

I watch you go to the jukebox,
like a kid in a candy store,
its hard for you to just pick one.
As you grab my hand for a pre-dinner dance
I can smell blackberry and vanilla, your scent,
waft through the air. Your entire being
dances with laughter and ignites my own
giggles of pure ecstasy.

For, as much as I feel you,
you have never been here.
They don't even serve your "go-to" dish.
I can't really see you because
your body is caressed by the Earth and
hugging the tombstone, we laid you under.
And all I smell is pie, when I am really
wishing it was you again.
Wishing I had more than a
glimpse of what might have been.

Yet, here, you are not.
I only wish you could be here on a
Tuesday evening with me.
Wishing that that car didn't
dive into yours, that you didn't
careen with the tree,
Wishing the doctors were wrong.
Wishing you could just be here with me.