No.

Hemmingway says you can't come back, but Neruda says you will....

I would tell you that I've missed you, but that would be a lie.

I would say

 "Every thought has been of you"

but that would not be true.

I would pledge that,

 “Never a day shall pass again without my being near you…”

 but it isn't true. I am not bereft or dying.

I have not missed you.

I must tell myself.

I haven't shaken down apples two by two

because that is what we used to do,

I haven't watched an airplane drift away till it was gone,

imagining someone suffering within it.. swung from broken boughs

bent back toward a childless Earth.

I haven't missed you.

I must tell myself

    and believe.

Like youth watching a minute hand

rushing in slow-no-motion towards a ghostly birthday party,

I haven't glanced compulsively at my phone

irrationally, neurotically watching for your call.

Nor- in this evenings age of transcendence-

would it bother me to have missed the call

should you have made it.

Your shadow remains in the kitchen doorway

Long after the long black walk to evermore.

My shadow gave up, went back inside

 to spread icing on a piece of liver, and remain on terra firma.

I haven't felt emptiness or loneliness

stretched out like a barren beach.

I haven't watched our river carry paper boats away,

nor regretted having cast them from our reach..

I have not missed you.

I have not missed you.

I haven't debated with myself over emailing you 

just to tell you of something silly,

without affection…

I haven’t ill-fated a bloody letter in the guise of a random “Hello”

just to delude myself a proxy connection.

I haven’t thought back

how your hands stirred

tomato soup

as I chopped fresh cilantro while we chatted about ..

Well…you know that special chat.

I haven’t thought about that.

I …never… think back upon that.

No repressions, or revived self transgressions...

None.

I haven't thought of curly locks or bitten lips

or chuckles from a cloud.

I haven’t fantasized road trips to mountain tops,

Nor have I cursed aloud.

I haven't closed my eyes or wished that,

upon them opening,

you could still be here.

I haven't.

I haven’t.

I haven’t heard a million thunder strummers

Soul drumming near the levees of my sanity;

I haven’t felt….oh what is the use?!?!

Enough!! Enough!!  Enough of this!!

.

.

.

Besides, if a heart breaks while no one is around,

does it make a sound?

Do trees weep forever dying

As roots rotted, come unwound?

Why should this matter?

You see, I have not missed you.

 I must tell myself.

And believe.

 And no tune nor prose or vague smile from a stranger

(even that one whom resembled my late friend)

can wed my eyes to care…

No thinking back of love-attacks can plant my spirit there.

I have not felt anxiety creep dire down into my stomach

 nor have I sobbed like a fool,

I have not listened to wind swept songs in my mind

 and

I have not missed you.

I have not… missed you.

 

It would be the greatest-

the most tragic lie one could hear in fact-

to utter those simple words.

I must tell myself.

and so I do.

.

.

.

But I'll not tell you...

No.

Where ever this universe has placed you,

 you will not hear these words from me.

Besides, you wouldn't believe that the counting of apples;

or paper boats

or birthday party count-downs could exist

without you by my side.

or worse

You might even return a whisper through a veil or  scribbled stone:

"I've missed you too".

and I would know

that you were lying.

 

 

 

Author's Note

It should never be assumed my art is personal; as a storyteller, craftsman and poet the composition as an entity itself takes top priority.
Typically I draw on life experiences (as any honest writer should) though I am not one which uses prose as a megaphone for my personal life.
I write in the land of metaphor, a world of symbolism and unrestrained abstraction governed by a hypothetical thought process and rhetorical sense of understanding.
However, I welcome your feelings or personal impressions- be they objective criticism or otherwise.

Reviews

[Gaurav]

Seriously. This is a very enjoyable piece of work. Interesting. I wanted to write more but then i read Author's note. So i am not adding anything just to go against your rule. Haha. However, thanks for sharing.

[Tobias H. Reese]

Thank you for reading and taking the time to comment. :-)
I am glad that you found it enjoyable and interesting. Happy New Year!!

[Tobias H. Reese]

I've since revised my author's note so as not to insinuate that my works are mere exercises in prose with no human attachment of living experience. Thank you.

[gentlekindness]

This is excellent. I really enjoyed reading it. I agree with you that metaphor and symbolism are great tools for poetry.
"unrestrained abstraction"...I love that concept.
I look forward to more of your writing
Annie

[Tobias H. Reese]

Thank you very much for your time in reading and writing. :-)
I hope that the new year is off to a great start for you and I shall check out your writing as well.
Peace~!
ps
if you are fond of "unrestrained abstraction" by way of Video-as-art, I have a lot of work on instagram. ( @reese_customsandart but I'm soon going to change the handle...if you are interested I'll keep you posted. ) Thanks again!

[gentlekindness]

Thank you for the link. I do not have an instagram account but I might sign up for one.
Did you say you can post videos on there, in addition to pictures? I was not aware of that.

My youtube channel is Annie Mimi Hall. When I get a chance I will send you a link to one of my songs or cover tunes on youtube. I am a guitarist/ singer. I got into poetry because it is similar to writing song lyrics, and I get complaints about too much noise where I live...so I can only play at certain times of the day.

Blessings,
Annie💕💙💃💃💙💕