MY PERFECT ONE

You'll never know how hard it was for me, that first night. I watched you sleep, your perfect face still. You can't ever comprehend how many times I almost reached out, to touch your lips, to brush that strand of hair from your eyes. How often I wanted to gently shake you awake and explain to you exactly how beautiful you were. Once you frowned : all I wanted to do was hold you and smooth your troubles away forever.

Unfortunately I was blindingly aware of how much a part of your troubles I would become were I to move. So I sat there the whole night, watching you sleep. At once tortured by and delighting in your inhaling, exhaling, your mere presence. The following day I listened to your anguish about Mark - an idiot for refusing your proffered love. I successfully suffered through the next day or so. I never slept, lying awake every night on your bedroom floor.

And then? Then it was time for me to leave. Like a fool, a considerate, empathizing fool, I said nothing. Off you went to work; off I went on my way again. The agony over the next few days - should I write? As a friend? Declare my feelings? How would you take it? Should I go back and confront you? It was so much easier to just leave it, to let time and distance try and soothe the torment of my soul.

Try as they might, however, they were completely unsuccessful. Slipping once more into depression, I found that I could neither carry on with my life, nor bring myself to action. I found myself indulging in meaningless flings, running from club to club to escape the pain.

That is why I was so absolutely dumbstruck that night I saw you in the club. Overjoyed and exhilarated, I was happier than I had ever been. And ... and when you told me Mark was out of the picture and there was no one else and I told you the truth ...well, you understood. More than that, you returned the feeling. That night went well : I was not as socially inept as I am prone to be.

"I have to go - I've got Chemistry early tomorrow." The reluctance in your voice reawoke the butterflies in my stomach. "Goodbye ... I love you." For once my words sounded sincere. With that and a final kiss you got into the taxi and I watched you drive out of my life.

***

Now, my perfect one, I do touch your lips. I brush that strand of hair from your eyes. I smooth the wrinkles from your forehead. Your troubles are over now. I wipe my tears from your cheeks. They have preserved your beauty, your perfection. And the coffin hides perfectly your mangled lower body. I must live with the fact that I cannot smooth away your injuries, eradicate the twisted metal, the burnt rubber. I want to gently shake you awake and explain to you exactly how beautiful you are. But, once again, I am condemned to watching you sleep.