I miss your face.

visible, mentally tangible
but not real.
like a ghost of a dream,
haunting the rapid eye movements
of what's caught between.
a holographic message a year too late
emitted from an unsuspecting teddy bear.
and while we're staying in theme -
the dying words of King Hamlet.
there's an emptiness causing this mind play.
the traveling distance betwixt,
separated by an empty gas tank.
the longing to count down the days,
the 11:11 wish to have my dream come true.
my imagination takes over the moments we miss,
to prepare myself for that day…
when you are physically tangible
before I close my eyes to sleep.