i think about you all the time.

even when i'm asleep, i dream about your
fingerprints
and the way you snore,

and i have sad dreams where you tell me
that the sun rises & sets for us,
that western cities call to us,
and that june draws near.

but i wake up and cry without knowing why.

i think about you when i'm at work,
and when i'm on the train,
and when i'm watching racing droplets on the taxi cab window,
pretending we're the droplet that's going to make it to the edge.

and i think about you when i'm ordering coffee.
you like drinking it black because you think it makes you seem cool, and i tell you that's the dumbest thing i've ever heard - "you're basically drinking hot bean water then!" -
as i pour cream and sugar into mine, i glance up to see you smirking at me, lovingly.
nobody does that to me anymore, especially not when disagreeing.

i think about you when i'm washing my hair,
and when i stand in front of the closet,
and try to find a shirt i haven't yet worn with you.
it's a pointless exercise; they all have your scent on them.

i think about you when i'm making dinner,
and sometimes, it just hits me out of nowhere.
that i'm here, and you're there,
and my hands shake so much i have to put the dishes down.

it would probably be easier to not think of you at all,
to not be so familiar with how your fingers feel on my hips,
to forget the way you brush my hair every night before bed.

but i find myself deciding that i would rather know those things
and be in pain from the knowledge of your existence apart from me,
than to not know you at all.