you don't miss me.
i'm trying to not you.
though, the melodies and waves
still hang off of my ears
and occasionally, i hear you.
through other forms,
you are always there;
hiding in the folds of my sheets,
barely holding onto the rim of my glasses,
amidst the dirt under my nails.
you find me in other boys,
in the ways their bodies move in ways mine can't.
surely,
just as you think of them with me,
you think of me with them?
i can only hope that at least sometimes you think of me.