last time...

Today I miss you.

At least, I think I might miss you tonight. I’m going somewhere. The last time I was there, I spent all night talking to you. You told me you loved me, I could feel your grin across a land mass. That was when we had unfinished business. That was before you took me to bed again. I wore the shoes I had on when we first met, in the summer heat. I drank too much wine, and you made me happy, just with words. That was one of the moments when the feeling of you always being with me was good, a moment when your presence was no burden. Just a secret. It was beautiful, it was precious, it was a little charm in my pocket, it made me feel like everything shone differently and that I was more to the world than what I could see. Tonight, I will hear the same voice that sung to me that night but there will be no words from you, none, not one. I’ll be glad and feel bitter and feel sad. I’ll be free. I’ll still miss you.

There’s this tiny hole somewhere that makes the structure unsound. I drip drip drip out of it. Because, when the hole heals over, I pick the scab off, every now and again. And then I miss you. I’ll miss you, until I no longer do. I’ll miss you. I’ll miss you. I’ll miss you. It’ll drip, drip, drip.

Right now, I play music that I used to listen to before I knew your name.