i miss you in the sense that i miss the summer,
only on the coldest days, when i remember
altered realities, moments i felt warm and funny.
i miss you in the sense that i miss our ankles crossing,
and i think about venting to you, even when i think
about how you think about, how i’m a bad listener.
i miss you in the sense that i miss football,
because it gave me an excuse to be at your place,
after i could wear those sweatpants i liked -
now i think about my cozy apartment with coldness
and clarity, that i don’t want this bored moment
to last longer than my longing, which it has.
i miss you, when life is full of greys and grandeur, or
electric intensity, self doubt, self hate, and scoring to
track our mistakes before they keep repeating.
i miss you when i’m stubborn and annoying and
none of my friends have the heart to call me out, but you
do, and pull me in with ease, our bodies crash like waves
coming together only to pull tides apart.
i miss you in the sense that i miss myself, because you’re
always a part of me - and there’s no good in goodbye,
and no good in going steady, but i miss you, so i text you anyways.