A wish

Dear friend,

I wish you were here. Easy thing to say I know, but. When you're not around, and I have this problem... Well, I hate to call it a problem. Or call it, it, in fact. But there is this situation, this stress, this concern, and I can't ask you any more to help me but I wish I could. You always made things clearer. I wondered how I spoilt you. I don't want to spoil anything else. Imperfect the rose and all that. But now you're not here, I don't know whether or not I'm spoiling another. Ruining. Hurting. Stamping on the flowers, blowing petals into the mud. It feels like you're just as distant as friends who have gone upstairs; found the password to a floor further up with the latch locked tight. Occasionally one might hear the music, but, there's no... Feeling. Touch. Sensation. It's just an emptiness. It feels like you are gone too. But you are not. You are with others, far, far away, on the same level but entirely distant. I mourn for you, but there is a kindness that you can live so freely and remain you. You is very important. Yourself is essential - fantastic, amazing. Never stop, please never stop being you.
But no matter how I reflect back, you're not here, and that's that. I can't ask you for your advice, no matter how good and relevant it'd be. I can't tell you that I care and remember you, I can't tell you how much I miss you, how I wish we could be in touch again, my dear friend.