I miss you so ******* much it hurts,
in my mind and in my chest.
The smell of your hair,
the feel of your skin.
The sound of your voice,
if you say "I love you", or
**** it, even if you asked
"are you okay?",
because right now
I would say I am not.
I would say I miss you.
Waking up next to you,
or really, opening my eyes,
sometimes,
as you wake up next to me.
I miss your touch,
sometimes,
you hold me and
you won't lie.
So you don't tell me
everything is going to be okay.
You say something else.
I miss that.
I miss it so much I had to start up
my ******* lap top after midnight
to write it down.
I ******* miss you.
Initiating a kiss.
Telling a story.
****…
Everything.
Just anything, okay?
So now, one of these messes
says it; I love you.
I love you so much I have trouble thinking
of a life without you, and a love for you.
I love you so much it hurts too.
It hurts to smile about the thought of you still.
I miss your snarky attacks on
the mainstream narrative.
I love your sarcastic dismantling
of the dominant ideology.
I ******* love you.
If you were wondering what I think
about when you're not here,
I think of you.
Sometimes it makes me smile,
sometimes it makes me feel alone,
but I think of you.
I miss you so much it hurts.