Face Behind the Glass

She looks at me from behind the glass.  One eye hidden, the other visible, her gaze is focused.  Her lips form the hint of a smile and a dimple creases her cheek.  Her hand is resting close to his.  There is evidence of unfinished projects around them, but the two are relaxed together, lying on the floor.  His chest is her pillow.  The sound of his heart beat fills her ear.  The scent of a man fills her nostrils.  She breathes it in.  She is warm when lying beside him.  He pats her shoulder with his arm around her in a reassuring way.  “It will be OK.  I love you,” he says with his gesture.

She looks at me from behind the glass.  An image frozen in time. Her gaze, a perfect reflection of my past, pierces my soul.  When I reach for her world, I find it is gone.  Was it just a mirage?

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  1. I am assuming from reading one of your posts that this is about your husband you lost. So sorry. Please accept my condolences.

    • It was my attempt to express my feelings after coming across a picture of us resting on the floor together.


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