Conjured

We wade through the moonlight, jeans wet up to the knees. We tied a scarf to a tree so we could find our way back, but I’ve come unmoored anyway. Looking at you is like sinking in deep water. I asked you to throw me a life preserver and you laughed in my face. When we were little and the trees dappled sunlight across the forest floor, I called your name without fear. Now you exist only as a whisper in case my words might conjure you. You’re all in my head, now. It’s hard to believe you were small once. In my nightmares you loom. I wake up with my heart pulsing in my throat, memories full to bursting with your blue eyes and those long, long eyelashes.