Imprinted

I miss his lean frame, and our lingering eyes as we stared at one another a lot longer than what we should’ve whilst searching for some kind of solace via answers to questions, and I wondered how he tucked his PTSD behind his light heartedness, and those unforgettable signature socks.      
       
Pondering this man leaves me with a dull pain in my chest, and I’m somewhat blurry eyed for things that might’ve been, had we pursued those pathways decades ago but in his post investigative career path, our paths will never cross.
 
I remember the boy he was in his youth, prior to wifing & raising babies he missed during his 70 hour working week, and he never saw me peeking at him during those times in legends as he was a legend, in the making.
 
I miss our lengthy one on ones, and the softness of his hands as they depicted his soft heart, unlike the rough I’ve known with boys struggling to be men, and his brand of gentleman was never lost on me.
 
He changed his cologne during mid posting, which was telling in itself as we immersed ourselves in hours of exchanges, and I hung on every word that followed, post his flights from south to north for brief moments with his family, and the subject header with a snapshot of his socks in the body of his email, spoke briefly to where his thoughts were drifting.
 
Just in case you’re wondering he hinted, and of course, I wondered as I felt the dislocation in the depths of me, as if the very thing that made my heart beat, had been ripped from the cavity of my chest and for a moment, I felt the torment unfold and I just couldn’t help myself.
 
Noting, his love for people and I oft wondered why he jumped ship, and traded his badge for something less rewarding, whilst mopping up someone else’s mess as unruly youth languished behind bars when all they needed were therapeutic interventions.
 
His lingering eyes would follow me, and mine reciprocated whilst reading his, and those late Friday afternoons feigning sobriety could’ve brought us together, if I hadn’t been sipping lemonade as I caught his eyes trailing my frame whilst squeezing through the barriers.

Knowing him was like a breath of fresh air, and for a moment he was my right hand man until the hint of betrayal emerged, and I couldn’t look him in the eye any longer as he aligned himself with corruption, amongst the highest ranks.
 
There’s only a few decent good men standing, and he traded his soul with the devil but I still crave the purity of his energy, all over me.
 
The only man that carried a badge for decades without an ounce of power struggles that underpinned his ethicality, and he had me, the moment he asked on how he could improve his interrogative skills of a certain demographic.
 
I was astounded but polite whilst proffering a brief response, and it would’ve helped significantly if he was bilingual but his English only speaking tongue had graced my flesh during another lifetime, and that’s all that ran through my mind.
 
It wouldn’t have been comfortable to have been nestled amongst traitors, and had I held his hand that afternoon, he may not have felt betrayed and bewildered by his counterparts as they pelted him with bullets, which made its way onto their fictitious mini Hansard equivalent.
 
I woke this morning, and he was plastered all over my mind, and I know his morning wood will be squandered, when it should be deep inside me as he lazily spoons me, whilst dawn unfolds outside our louvred windows as we explore the energy that once swirled between us.        
       
Until the heat of his breath makes its way across my collarbone, and upon my ear lobe as he whispers something explicit but barely inaudible, before he tilts my head & crushes me with his unsuspecting kiss whilst rocking my world but I digress, he’s a red eye away with a band upon his finger, which keeps us both at bay, anchored in distant places.