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He was there for a moment, then gone,
Lost in a dark mist of my doubts

And my strange guardian appeared before me,
His tie blood red,
His stance taller than usual,
His long arms softly to his sides

I drew near,
My face tear stained and pained
He stared forward motionlessly 

I asked him,
“Why do I keep dreaming about him?”

He stood there still,
And quietly replied,

We haunt those that we think of the most

Dumbfounded, I knew his thoughts,
But could not confront those feelings
I asked him,
“But why? Why is it so torturous?”

 Your mind tortures you,
Because you allow it to torture you. . .

He set his hand on my shoulder,
And I suddenly felt sleepy
I tried to fight it,
But I found myself in his arms
Willingly

I awoke in a shelter of trees,
And he was there, watching me
Sitting up, I stared at his presence in wonder
He moved towards me slowly,
As if approaching a wounded animal

His face became clearer, 
And my heart began to race
“Is this real?” I asked weakly.
“Are you real? Or is this fantasy?”

A forgiving smile appeared on his blurry features,
As he lifted me up and set me on a gnarly branch 
He only stared at me,
As if he was waiting for a miracle

“Maybe it’s best that I don’t know.”
He nodded slowly, then embraced me

I cried a lot. . . 
It was as if I was hugging the last of everything
The last of him,
And the last of what we had. . .
Holding me still,
I was quieted by his touch,
His head lifting, leveling to mine

And he said again, darkly,
We haunt those that we think of the most. . .

I panicked in his arms as he smiled at me
“I may never see him again.”

His smile faded as he said,
You will.

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