You try to enjoy this time with her as much as you can, but it's hard, knowing that she is not real. You cannot feel her heart beating as fast as it used to when you hold her close, but if this is the nearest you can get to seeing your former matesprit, you're fine with settling.
You giggle as she pounces on you. You're currently having a little tackle fight like you used to, back when…
Let's not think about that.
Focus on the fun you're having.
You flip yourselves over and start letting your fingers run down her sides. She laughs because it tickles and the sound of her chuckling is hollow but fills you with melancholy nostalgia, like what these visits always do to you every night. You have the image etched into your blind vision; the olive-tinted gray skin being revealed as you pushed her rough, worn, black tanktop up just enough to see her bellybutton and freckles that graced her sides ever so discreetly. Nobody ever saw those but you; they embarrassed her but with you she was proud to show them because she knew you loved them.
You run your fingers along her exposed skin gently, knowing that you do not and will never have time enough to be intimate with her; or to just put it casually, pail with her. You can do this though, and you can smell the smile spreading across her freckled cheeks as well as a gentle green blush while her whitened-out eyes soften.
You smile back and lean forward. You cup one hand around her cheek and run it through the fine, short hairs behind her elf-like ear and are just about to kiss her when your burnt crimson eyes snap open and what you sense in front of you is not her beautiful, bright, delightfully calming face, but darkness.
Again.
Again this has happened.
Again you forgot, just for a second but that was more than enough time to ruin you.
You forgot that she isn't real and you were caught up in that agonizingly wonderful moment.
A desperate wail slowly releases itself from your throat, so loud and helpless that you are probably waking everyone on the meteor. You let the next one fly, and it breaks up, morphing into sobs. Tears and snot flow down the sides of your face, and you thrash about for only a second before realizing that it isn't worth it, and you get lightheaded when you start hyperventilating and your nose stuffs up. Your eyes feel puffy as well as your lips, and only after twenty minutes do you run out of tears. Your diaphragm is still spasming, used to being racked with hitching breaths.
She is gone.
You couldn't help her.
She is gone.
And you will never be able to see her again until you die.