I am here.
I am waiting, healing, forgotten.
I am trying, hoping, finding, wishing.
I am unheard.
I open my eyes,
To find myself being carried off,
When I am right here.
I was strong, capable, and respected.
And now mourned.
Why?
If I wander amoung them,
I find it ironic.
I am a soul amoung souls,
Different.
I cannot be seen, felt, or heard,
And he cannot sense me.
That is much harder.
The light has not come,
Why am I still here?
Am I truly gone,
Just an apparition of what was.
Or am I here,
Simply different
Like night and day?
Myself, here or not,
Gravitates towards a place,
a person, unthinkingly.
Will I come back to him,
Ease myself and him from his obvious suffering?
He tries to hide it, but I see.
It hurts.
