u/advicefromyourdad

When I say the words “I miss you”
I don’t speak of a thing with borders
that occupies a given space.
I miss you happens everywhere at once
in every place our feet stood together
and where mine are planted now.

When I say I miss you
it isn’t just this moment in time.
No, I miss you is like an arrow
that pierces through past, present, and future.

When I say I miss you
I mean it physically.
Every muscle reaches for you.
Every cell vibrates
together sounding out your name,
and it rattles around inside me
knocking against every bone.

When I miss you
it isn’t a solid object I can grasp
to push aside.
It is a cold cloud
that fills the entire shape of my body
pressing itself into every corner
shifting with me as I move.

When I miss you
I also miss myself.
All the parts of me that tiptoed
out from dark corners
each time your light passed by.

When I say I miss you
what I mean is I’m tired of missing you.
My I miss you is a four-letter word
and I spit my frustration
bitter as it passes my lips.

When I say the words “I miss you”
I do so quietly in a dark room.
Whispering those syllables so faintly
they only reach from mouth to ear,
so softly not even my heart can hear.

Every time I say I miss you
I wish to never say it again,
because tiny parts of me
leave along with those words
as they exit my body.

And each time I say I miss you
I wait
I wait
for a dreamless sleep
for the hazy morning after
and for the slow parting of one eye
to tell me if my wish came true.

The lump in my throat right now
is made of so much more than
I miss you,
but tonight
those are the only words
that make their escape.

When I say the words “I miss you”
I don’t speak of a thing with borders
that occupies a given space.
I miss you happens everywhere at once
in every place our feet stood together
and where mine are planted now.

When I say I miss you
it isn’t just this moment in time.
No, I miss you is like an arrow
that pierces through past, present, and future.

When I say I miss you
I mean it physically.
Every muscle reaches for you.
Every cell vibrates
together sounding out your name,
and it rattles around inside me
knocking against every bone.

When I miss you
it isn’t a solid object I can grasp
to push aside.
It is a cold cloud
that fills the entire shape of my body
pressing itself into every corner
shifting with me as I move.

When I miss you
I also miss myself.
All the parts of me that tiptoed
out from dark corners
each time your light passed by.

When I say I miss you
what I mean is I’m tired of missing you.
My I miss you is a four-letter word
and I spit my frustration
bitter as it passes my lips.

When I say the words “I miss you”
I do so quietly in a dark room.
Whispering those syllables so faintly
they only reach from mouth to ear,
so softly not even my heart can hear.

Every time I say I miss you
I wish to never say it again,
because tiny parts of me
leave along with those words
as they exit my body.

And each time I say I miss you
I wait
I wait
for a dreamless sleep
for the hazy morning after
and for the slow parting of one eye
to tell me if my wish came true.

The lump in my throat right now
is made of so much more than
I miss you,
but tonight
those are the only words
that make their escape.