Faded image

I look out to the horizon and see the image of someone I never knew. Would I have hated them? Would I have cherished their mind? Were they as shallow as I expected, or were there depths I could never touch?

 

I reach out to feel the person they were. Smoke dances around my fingers, taunting me for my sin of ignorance. When I finally make contact, I touch only the shards of a broken life. I pull my hand back in pain, only to reach once more.

Like that, the image of someone I never touched disintegrates like ashes spread to the wind. I clutch at anything I could hope to know. It all slips through my fingers once again. I can barely remember their eyes, their skin, their hands. How did her voice sound again? Did she sing? What was her laugh like? Did I ever hear her cry? I might know, if she spoke to me. I just wish she never told that lie.