This Is How I Miss You

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I’m already gone, to be with someone I don’t even know.

I don’t Miss you when my teeth is stained with cheap wine and my blood is turned into alcohol at 3AM. And club lights are on with all that crowd in the dancefloor. And a guy is hitting on me,  trying to pick me up. I miss you in the purest of moments. When I’m alone just thinking about you. 

I don’t Miss you at 2AM when I roll over and where your body used to be is empty and cold.  I miss you when I’m sun kissed and smiling. When I’m inspired to write, and write about you.

I don’t miss you in those few confusing minutes in the morning after my alarm goes off and I reach out to dismiss and cuss while I wish I could sleep for a few more minutes. I miss you when I’m in the shower, with the hot water running in my back and I remember how you used to rub my back. I miss the therapy of your arms in my back. It used to be the best way to kick start a day. I miss you when that first sip of coffee touches my soul and I imagine that somewhere the same is happening to you. 

I don’t miss you when I’m in a boring lecture. And I’m playing candy crush hoping time will fly or the annoying lecturer will stop talking. I miss you when I get home and change to my pajamas. After my first sip of tea touches my soul and calm my nerves. I miss you when I’m washing off my make up and I wonder what smart comment you would have said in that particular moment. I miss you how you used to find me all the things I misplaced for example my cleanser in the evening or my toothbrush in the morning.

I don’t miss you when I’m studying for a paper or researching on something or when I’m working on an assignment. I miss you when the results are out and I realize I don’t have any one to celebrate with or complain to. Depending on whatever I scored. You would make fun of my terrible grades and encourage me to just quit school since I’m just wasting resources and time doing what I kind of love and kind of hate.

I don’t miss you in the ordinary. I miss you in the extraordinary. In the purest of moments, in the sacred of times, in the intimate of moments. In the ways that should be screamed and paged down. In the moments only you deserved to be missed.

Inspired by stray cats.

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