I don't miss you.

Sitting at this blank page, with my coffee at my right and Jeff Buckley singing in my ears, down to my heart, spreading through my veins, right into my head. I've been driving down this filthy town for months trying to figure out where the hell do I go to get out of here. I've spent the past 3 days calling your phone and I get lengthy conversations with your voicemail in return. I'm chasing after something that no longer exists because I shot it down with my lovegun. 
Tonight I'm hoping to sleep for once instead of watching that dirty old fan and somehow comparing it to this situation.
I don't miss you. I just miss having you. I miss the idea of you. I miss tangling my legs with yours, laying in bed for days, making fun of your terrible singing voice while you mimicked my dumb laugh. 
I want to read books with you, read books to you, make you want me like a stray dog hungry for food.
F**k. 
You're always going to be gone and I'm always going to be here, lonely as ever. Never missing you but missing all that was of you.

Reviews

[Thomas Fleet]

Another great and very emotional write. Missing someone, or missing the idea of someone can hurt.
I think it's astounding how much emotion you can pack into your poems.
It's amazing. There is not much else to say.
Thanks for sharing.

[Rachel U.]

Damn, that was a lot sadder than I thought it was going to be. Interesting prose poem, I must say. There's really not much I can say grammtically in this situation, so my usual area of expertise is not relevant. ^.^ I suppose the only criticism I have is that you might want to label it "mature." ;) There are quite a few young people here.