What I miss can hardly be told without those pesky little drops of moisture that cloud my vision and make it hard to see when I think about it.
What I miss can not be summed up in just words, there are feelings which I suspect no one can describe easily or comfortably enough to make someone who hasn't been there understand.
What I miss causes me to sometimes feel far, far worse than lonely, for lonely is only a small part of what I miss
What I miss is not just a place or a feeling or a person, friend, companion, or lover. What I miss is all these and even more that I canβt put into words.
What I miss sometimes causes laughter, sometimes hurt, loving memories, arguments, good times, hard times, and times in between.
What I miss is mine alone, but if and when I wish to share, it must be my choice, and only when I feel safe in doing so will it be clear to you , what I miss.