Imagination.

In all honesty, I've forgotten. I've forgotten what you were like. What you did to me. The feelings.

I now doubt you actually existed. You were imaginary. Flickering. A dream. A personal Peter Pan. Flying in, not through an open window, but an open heart. Finding a home there and then--Swooosh-- Gone away.

And I am here. Watching. Close my eyes tight and see you again: Sunlight, filtering, hand on ledge, crooked smile, wool hat. Open eyes to computer, to blinking window at the bottom of the screen: Someone's beckoning me.
Their message is waiting.

It's not you.