It all comes back to you.
A premature declaration of love,
hundreds of cigarettes,
several one night stands,
many bottles of *****,
sleepless nights,
pep talks,
and six months later,
I still miss you when you are gone.
The hopelessness that surrounds me when the comfort of your presence in our apartment building is absent is almost indescribable,
if it weren't a precise forecast of one millionth of despair I'd feel when you eventually leave for good.
That despair I'm certain is going to feel like a gun shot would to the spleen.
I know I'm not your type of girl,
considering our only common denominator is nicotine,
when we cannot even find a film or a song we both like,
let alone anything in between.
It is evident you are far from my ideal type of guy, except
I think you are the guy.
Mixed signals and star patterns apart,
when you helped unzip that play suite,
there was nothing confusing or unclear about the shock of electricity that followed your touch from my neck to the waist down my spine.
They all say we look great together,
and I always think only if how great I felt when I was with you could be painted, photographed or just captured in some mainstream form for them to see,
the definition of absolute greatness.
But I am not much more than the smartphone you leave in your room,
the same owner and little use.
I dislike physics and gaming, as much as you detest large crowds and dancing,
but I idealize the thought of being different together,
which I know you don't.
Metaphorical or not you wondered out loud what it would be like,
so let me tell you,
I will be the lights out and shy kind of girl,
I will be submissive, amateur and giddy,
it would be absolutely indescribable, except
I am certain it will resemble the first time one sees the Northern Lights only a million times more incredible,
when you must truly experience it to know the feeling.
The fact of the matter is I obviously never stopped needing you, and
apparently didn't succeed at not showing it either.
The bottom line is when you are not sleeping in your room two floors above my own,
I really miss you very much, and
it's a lot worse than missing you when you are casually sprawling across my bed.
I wonder if you maybe feel one millionth the same...