The ones who fade seem the primary ones

Something about their absence invokes inference

They will be perfect

They are ideal

They are exactly what you wish

Ego turns to assuméd wisdom

Hot breath tickling your ears

Telling you that you are missing out on this specimen

This perfect human being who wanted nothing more than to fulfill your every desire and yet

And yet they slipped through your grasp

Sand through a sieve

They lie in a palace of absolute pleasure gorging upon the remnants of your love and you are left desolate at the bottom of the well that you have dug yourself and there is nothing you can do but scream upwards shriek into the void of your own creation and hope that they look up from their ill-gotten meal and look into your failed eye and take pity on the sad state of your existence and drop the bucket down and wait with bated breath and pursed lip for you to pull yourself up and up and up and finally meet their solemn gaze with an apology unmatched by all those that have lived before and be happy and be joyous and meet those grating screeches with the yipping exclamations of refound love and yet

And yet