Letter to an old lover

The sort of letter I want to write but have never had the courage to.

It’s probably a bad idea to post this but what the hell.

You say you miss me, and I wonder how do you miss me.

Do you miss the talking and drinking long into the night? The laughing and silliness and randomness of it all?

Do you miss trying to pick something to watch? When I could never decide? comedy? Action? Drama? And definitely no chick flicks?

Do you miss all those weird couple-y things we had to do? Like shopping? Cooking? And those seemingly endless family occasions?

Do you miss touching me? Kissing me? The nights spent together?

Do you miss feeling like a giddy teen in the first rush of lust? Unable to keep our hands off each other? Spending far too much time finding excuses to not get up?

Do you miss the exploring? The wonder of finding someone who got you? Who understood the need to just be?

Do you miss me with ache inside that feels like a huge hole, but at the same time feels like a massive ball of wire that fills you so much that at times you can’t breathe? That feels like it’s going to unravel at any moment and leaves you scared about what will happen when it does?

Do you miss me in a way that leaves you always on the edge of tears that you can’t shed, because you were cried out long ago? Or filled with desire to scream so loud the whole world could hear it?

Do you miss me in a way that means you no longer even want to get out of bed? That leaves you to longing to climb back into bed because that’s the only place you feel safe enough to let your thoughts roam?

Do you miss me in a way that makes you wary about seeing something that sets back all the progress you thought you’d made? That makes you not want to ever even try to get to know someone new?

And do you wonder when did it all change?

8 thoughts on “Letter to an old lover

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