By Alec West

I still feel it when we talk,

When I see your picture:

A vision, a longing, pours over me,

As if I can glimpse into a different dimension

Where a different choice was made.

 

I still see it in your eyes

(Or rather a phone’s pale reflection):

The joy, spirit, and mind:

A brilliant mirror of my imagination.

Not shattered, now, but forever out of reach.

 

I still remember it—being near you,

Our red drinks, warm laughter usurping bitter chill,

A garden beginning to spring into life.

All of it is reverie:

The sweetest sort of mockery.

 

I still cling to your mournfulness,

For that is how I know it was real.

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Alec West (he/him) ‘28 is a history and economics (BA) double major. He started writing poetry in his junior year of high school, and also enjoys reading, playing video games, and playing tennis.