I think you should ask yourself first before saying “I miss you”. Because, you know, you change. People change. Places change, age, and grow tired even more each day.
So when you miss people, or places, you probably just miss yourself.
(Your lesser self. Your good old days. Your old playlists.)
But you probably miss them too.
I thought I saw Anna this morning
she was preparing your breakfast
your toast, your coffee
I thought she smelled like sunrise
I thought I saw her dancing
I peeked through the window
I thought she ran out of time
I thought you fell out of love
I joined her,
until she disappeared
with 9 AM sunshine
It’s strange how we meet anually and you always turn into such time machine, bringing back childhood memories of family holiday, younger me swinging pool stick that was too big for my hands or how I hated myself appearing on the video captured by the only handycam I ever remembered. How you remind me of late afternoon sunlight slipping through the windows, pine trees outside and everybody’s favorite dysfunctional seesaw. How you remind me of the first time I learned about having irrational hopes, occasional disappointment and divorced parents.
It’s strange that we actually never talked that much but I always looked at you the same way; for a while then I looked away after you smiled.