the hardest part
about missing you
is knowing
I shouldn't.

yet here I am,
up all night
aching and thinking of you
and you're sound asleep.

your dreams aren't filled
with the faces of a lover
who made promises
that were not kept.
(but mine were.)

you don't wake in the morning
wanting to return to your dreams
just to see my face
or hear my voice.
(but I do.)

you don't go about your day
wondering where I am
or what I'm up to
or if I'm thinking of you.
(but I always am.)

and at night
when you lay down to sleep
you don't wish
you were lying right next to me.
(nighttime is the loneliest, you know.)

but I think the hardest part
about missing you
is not dreaming of you,
or thinking of you,
or wishing you were here.

the hardest part
is knowing you made your choices
and I wasn't one of them.