I miss you. I know I shouldnít, but I really really do.
I miss you whenever something funny happens that I know only you will understand
I miss you when I see others kiss and I remember your lips against mine, your hands in my hair, devouring me.
I miss you late at night when Iím on the verge of sleep and that part of me that will always be yours reminds me that you should be there, curled around me, holding me while I sleep.
Iím terrified that this is the way itís always going to be. You get to have both of us and I am left with nothing because Iím still yours in all the ways that count.
I wish I could break free, but at the same time I donít want to lose my memories of you, of us, of being loved.
I never thought that was possible and now I know that it is, except that it isnít because you and I can never be.
All you can ever offer me is empty promises and regrets, descriptions of feelings that are worthless without actions to support them.
You say you loved me and tell me you still do without words, but Iím not sure you know what love is, when you wonít fight for what you want and it takes you a year and a half to admit it in the first place.
Is that what your love is worth? Is that what I mean to you?
I think your silence speaks for you