Seren J.H. Wolfe

she cannot remember the colour of his eyes,
but the slant of his smile curves in a way
that reminds of her the wilderness.
they are a departure of souls:
living within different dimensions,
together.
they cannot touch hands,
or hold fingertips to lips.
soft. strong. reliable. tangible.
and so,
she sits and cries into the river
that still runs in her dreams,
in the hopes that he will taste
her tears, and know
he was never unloved.
and he was never forgotten.