A bit more real than ever

I can't believe you're gonna make me miss you, again. You're dust, you're long time gone. You are barely an idea, but that's what makes it so impossible to get rid of you for good. The person you once were is probably dead, or has turned into someone I simply will never get to know. But your essence keeps coming back when I see good things that I used to relate to you. Even after so many years, I can smile and remember of how you made me smile. Some grasps of hope still feel like what we could have had. I don't ever feel like home, but sometimes back then felt more like home than it does here and now. However, deep inside I know I overestimate the past, or you, just because I can't go back. Because ideas like you are a bit less flawed than actual human beings. Because you are the outcome of my foolish thoughts, you don't even exist. But you used to, and sometimes I wish it was a bit more real than it has ever been.