There’s just no way one can spend one’s time with someone else. And share space, emotions, dreams, fears, et cetera with them and not leave an imprint of one’s character behind. Or not be impacted oneself.
Of course, one can attempt to mask that impact. That sadness, heartache and longing because it shows, what, weakness, right?
When one misses someone else, especially when breaking apart was a bit messy, one ought not feel conflicted. It is easy to come down hard on ourselves, be somewhat disappointed when we miss a person who, perhaps, might have hurt us. Or whatever.
But, we are human beings. Going about life unfeeling isn’t how we roll. Which is the reason I wrote these words. I felt a sharp longing for you. The truth is…
I miss you.
Almost every single day of late.
I miss looking into your eyes.
They seem closed when you’re at a distance.
They’re inviting. They’re calming to look into.
And drown deeply into.
I didn’t realise. I miss your eyes.
I find myself with a grin on my face when I conjure up memories of our first day together. Do you remember anything at all about it? Well, first, it was a stunningly sunny day, clear blue skies, Sunday, and we had been waiting for it with bated breath. And you showed up that afternoon and my world stopped.
I miss your laugh.
Okay, okay, let me blunt.
I miss the contours of your body.
I miss walking behind you.
Mmmm. Your butt.
You are beautiful.
I miss carrying your bag. You made it be a privilege.
I miss kissing you.
Oh my, I really miss your naughty self.
Holding your hand.
Caressing your waist.
What’s crazy is that I miss you more with each passing day. I see you through other women who look a little like you. This means sometimes smiling happily at a stranger, until they turn around and I see it’s not you. Perhaps talking the heartache through could have saved us. Perhaps even if we failed to salvage our love, we might have saved the privilege of being in each other’s company from time to time.
I miss your mind.
Your dress sense.
I miss you mocking my pronunciation of certain words.
Me then fervently defending how I speak.
I miss your gorgeous looks.
Your face with hair plated backward.
You are beautiful.
Your choice of music.
Fuck! We jammed to Gregory Porter together.
You even sang for me.
I miss our first kiss. What a moment.
You know, retrospectively, even the delicate shaving off of time, because your hectic schedule, so we could be together, even for thirty minutes, strikes me as iconic. It seems long ago when we started talking to each other and as we got acquainted we naïvely thought we could avoid ‘trouble’ by maintaining being friends. Who were we fooling, really?
I miss your support of my projects.
You took an interest in things I loved.
You immersed yourself in me.
I miss you, beautiful.
I miss my hands, all over you.
I miss walking with you.
I miss telling you I love you.
I miss initially being scared of your mom.
I miss our park visits.
I miss trading books with you.
I miss your love.
Our first dinner date was something else. Also, it was incredible how you made people around me fall for you. You fit well into my life. I wonder how you’re doing as I take a stroll down memory lane. And you know, I have kept a few photos of us and messages you sent me when we started talking. I can’t bring myself to discard them. I feel a little conflicted when I glance at them; what if I managed to save our love? Perhaps I did the right thing by letting things go the way I did?
I miss talking to you.
Going through your images knowing I’ll see you tomorrow.
Admiring your beauty.
Yes, I was a staunch fan.
Finding myself through you.
I learned lots.
So, I ponder. And then flip rapidly through to other images that don’t mean much. A drop in my eye falls sideways and onto the couch I’m lying on. Maybe it’s because of the song in my ear, Kem. Just maybe. With that said, it doesn’t matter what brings these emotions forth, what matters is the privilege of having made great memories through the experiences I had with you.