Selected Correspondence I: I Miss You...

I miss you.

I didn’t breathe deep enough when I saw you last, and now I’m in too deep, and it hurts, and I want to breathe but if I do I’ll drown because there’s no air left to breathe this far down. You are the first question I’m asked and I have no response but to miss you more. I can’t escape my thoughts of you because they’re everywhere…
Driving I can’t help but wish you were there to keep me from tormenting myself. Then I think, better me than you, yourself, because there’s a chance you’ll still speak with me when the trip is done. It just seems like wasted time when I’m alone, looking at the vacant seat beside me. I remember the time I had your company and over the phone it just isn’t the same. I prefer to get lost in your eyes than in the small town intersections up North.
I missed you at the hotel; I couldn’t enjoy the hot tub because I kept wondering if you would. All the rooms had two beds so I’m sure you’d have been accommodated.
I went to church today and thought it better you weren’t there and forced into introductions and smiles and hugs I couldn’t be too sure of as far as motives were concerned.
I missed you at the mall when I managed to return your sweater because my decision making skills buckled under the pressure of what to get you. You said black; I hope you like at least one of my attempts. I met a friend there too. We caught up and she had quite a story to tell, and she made me appreciate and miss you all the more.
I miss you at night. Tea just isn’t the same. And I’m not as comfortable and consequently quick to sleep without your influence at hand. I miss your dog too, and thus miss you. He’s not like other dogs. Sherlock isn’t Matty, but isn’t Woof either. Give Woof some lovin’ from me.
I wish you sat across from me so my eyes could settle on you, and rest, and stop searching for you everywhere only to be continuously disappointed when the car is not so banged up, or the hair is too short, or too long, or anything yours is not except enough to wish for a second that maybe you’re not as far away as I know you are. No one else is you, and I miss you.
I miss you when people ask me about me because I don’t know what to tell them about my friend, with benefits, who is such a huge part of that answer but doesn’t fit into the work and school song and dance that makes things easy to sum up. I can’t sum you up. Not in any more than three words.
I miss you when I plan my days and can’t reserve the time to look forward to the best part of it.
I miss your smile and your laugh. I miss your eyes. I miss your ears. I miss your voice. I miss your hands and feet. I miss you like you’re not just up the road, or across town, or getting off work soon, or getting ready for bed but yeah you’ll be up for a while if I want to stop by when I’m done, and you’re not on the phone or brushing your teeth or taking a shower or running around or out, or you are all those things and I’m just not there to miss you like I do then because I’m here missing you like I do now.
I miss all I know and I know all I miss, but I’m used to it. I’ve missed you every minute we’re apart whether or not I knew it, and I’ll miss you again, in part or in whole, because there’s much I have yet to miss.
I miss you when I’m writing because I’m not happy with the product. I can’t tell you how much I’ll really miss you until I can be with you again and stop missing you.



(Now if only I could apply this old letter to my savior, and not a broken romance...)

- TPK