Missing you to the sound of Sara Bareilles streaming from the speakers of my car that you sat in two days ago.
Feeling you in the wind that plays with my hair, aching for your touch rather than wishing to be alone.
For the first time I miss you. Not the aching I-need-you that I've felt before, just the I-can-hear-you-on-the-wind, the absence of your presence enunciated
By the trace of your airy fingertips in my hair and the melody of your voice on the horizon calling to me in the breeze, singing to me in this song.
Your wispy presence brings me peace. Your howling voice gives me rest, and you're far right now, but I can hear you in this car. In this song. In the wind. Waiting for me, Just as you've always done.