He was my obsession.  

A pale sculptured piece of flesh, his blue-black coloured hair cascaded in tresses of unruly curls over his shoulders and down his back. His jade green eyes large and beckoning; a soulful gaze and I am lost within him.  

I can remember the very scent of him. It remains imprinted on my memory like the fading fragrance upon the letters he sent me. The way his hand felt within mine, the softness of his skin, the headiness and weakness of my knees upon seeing him, the trembling and pleasures of his touch.  

So perfectly in proportion; the flatness of his abdomen, the way his hair lay sporadically about his chest, the way it lingered below his navel and encased his well-sized cock.   The taste of him remains etched upon my lips. The sound of him cumming; the way his body would spasm and shudder beneath my grasp, exploding in surges within my eager mouth.  

I could never have enough of him.  

I could never be enough for him.  

I can still feel him. I feel his presence about me. He lingers and brushes past my soul and I am lost to him forever.  

My body sways with his rhythm; my heart aches to be touched by him. Now he is a memory, a fading picture within my sorrowful mind. I hold onto his image like I held onto his life, with futile efforts, and every day he slips further and further away from me.  

I am lost in this loneliness, trapped in this love and there is no escape from him.  

I look for no answers; I wander, I cry, I imagine, I live, and I long to die.

His lips are ashen now, his face expressionless. He sleeps so deeply and will never awaken to touch me.

At night when I lie in bed I can feel him behind me, holding me. I can feel the warmth of his breath upon the back of my neck. I can hear him whisper gently, 'I love you,' and then it is gone.

I look at him lying there and I will him to stay with me. But death is selfish and like a memory his body begins to fade.

His beauty is dying, his body decaying, his flesh rots, and once again he is leaving me.

I have nothing without him.

I am nothing without him.

I call to him and he does not answer. My pleas fall upon his ignorance. 'Try and answer me,' I beg him. I strain to hear his reply. Once, I even imagined that he did answer me. 'Let me go,' he said. I cannot let him go! Why in death does he continue to ask so much of me?

I could never be enough for him.