I felt the cotton like material bounce back beneath my finger tips. The Red glow of the heater staring back at me under the intense pain. I loved him. But he was slipping away. I no longer remembered his favorite books, his favorite songs, the things he use to say. The phrases that emulated off my brain in the darkest moments of my life, were slipping away. For a time in my life where things were coming together, loosing the one man I had clung to, was not something I expected. The aspect that he was not someone I should desire nor long for, did not defeat the senses in my heart that told me not to put him away. In a life where constant struggle and pain were things I could expect, my own mind could not be controlled when it came to him. I could think about him all I wanted. No one could tell me no, dig inside my mind and tell me to stop it.
This quiet was mine. This was my mind, my moment of peace and solitude. Beyond reason, remorse and morality, I clung to him. He would always be that baby faced cherub sitting in my mind, stroking my cheek, telling me what I was good at, what I was passionate about and that he was there with me, he loved me. And now he was slipping away under this impression of sense and good judgment to move on and do what was right, as should have been all along. Was it right that I clung to him? An infinite fantasy ready and willing to be enveloped at my command like the bounce of this fabric under my fingertips that I controlled, like so little else in my life? No. It wasn't right.
