He was back again where he shouldn’t have been,
stepping into her story
to haunt her again.
He was witty and charming and oh so smart,
but the best part was he laughed
and he loved
and respected her heart.
She set her fingers to the screen to draw him forth,
but the pixels were lying again
those slaves to worth.
She’d pour wine and warm to his kindness,
writing to exhaustion,
to mourning his presence.
©October 2019, Christina Anne Hawthorne