I Miss You

A conversation with an ex makes me think about the past, and reconsider what exactly I miss

I Miss You

 

1:08 am

I text you

Someone’s on my nerves

And I need to vent

I text you

Time zones mean you’ll be awake

And who you are means you’ll listen

 

1:18 am

And the conversation shifts

We are no longer talking about them

We are laughing, like we once did

And the conversation feels familiar, comfortable

Like crawling under the covers of my childhood bed

 

I can almost forget the late nights crying

Almost forget the burn of vodka sliding down my throat

As I try to drink away the memory of you

Almost

 

1:32 am

I miss you

I miss you…

The cursor blinks patiently

No

I mean I do

But I don’t want to lead you on

Because I don’t want you back

Or maybe I do

But I know that I shouldn’t

 

1:37 am

We’re talking about your best friend

And I miss you

Except that I don’t

I miss an idyllic, uncomplicated us

That never really existed

I miss the routine

I miss calling you mine

But I don’t think I miss you

At least not like that

 

1:40 am

We say our good nights

I make it through without slipping up

And confessing I miss you

I know that each word of the phrase

Would lead to an hour-long dissection

Of my intentions and the subtext

So I am once again

Alone with my thoughts

Which, as always,

Inevitably

Lead back to

You