You

There's a place where I can go where you are how I remember you. How I choose to remember you, you at your youest. I have that luxury, now that you're gone. Or perhaps it's more out of duty, that you should be defined by the best version of yourself, even if that was long ago, even if that's not the whole story. Most people don't know whole stories, they knows chapters, sections of chapters, sections of chapters recounted to them by someone who heard it from someone who heard it long ago. So, then, perhaps it is a disservice. That I sleep and dream and see only what I want to see. But I am not fully in control. Am I? How can I be? No, there must be more to it than that. It must be how you saw yourself, the mirror you finally get to look into, the one that reflects exactly what you want. Not luxurious, or dutiful, or boastful, or arrogant. But you. And perhaps you are all those things. Perhaps one day I will find out for myself, instead of waiting for you to come to me in the small dark hours of the night.