March 27th, 2014

A Solitary Mine


I miss you.
Not in the "I hate being alone" way
Not in the "I don't want to die alone" way
I am missing —you— specifically.

I miss waiting for you to wake up.
I miss messages from you first thing in the morning.
I miss being away from you but with the knowledge
that we'll be back together soon.

I miss trying too hard to make you smile
and annoying you instead.
I miss debating in my head whether you're cuter
when you smile or when you frown.
I miss your ups and downs.
And knowing that I love you
and that that will be enough to fix things when I fuck up.

There are things that I don't miss,
but I miss understanding them
And that we can't be all things to all people.
I miss trying to be anyway.

I miss telling I love you in ways no one had ever before thought to tell you they loved you
for reasons I could never fathom.
I could never fathom the idea of not loving you,
or the idea of people who could.

I miss your storms.
I miss your arms.
I miss your stories and pretending like I hadn't heard them before—
just because I have a good memory doesn't mean I have to act like a jerk.

I miss my mission to make you the most special person in the world
because it was the easiest thing ever;
over before I even started.
I miss only having to make you realize
what I already knew
what is glaringly obvious to me
and has been from the start.

I just wish
that I could miss
missing you, instead
for a moment,
as just a thought
at the back of my head.
And then it's gone,
like a dream taken by dawn.
Forgotten that it was ever forgotten,
wisps of what was.

I just miss