My heart and soul

“Miss someone until they come back, or until you come back, until their absence in your life becomes something to be avoided at all costs. Miss them until you don’t have to anymore, until you’re reunited in your favorite booth in your favorite restaurant ordering your favorite meal, miss them until it feels like you never left. Or miss them until you can’t anymore, until the things you miss are identified and cataloged as things and not a person, until you figure out that easy company and long talks and unblinking, all-knowing eye contact will find you again the way they found you the first time. Miss someone until you don’t.”

“‘are you in pain?’ you ask. i remain silent, unsure of how to respond. how do you explain to someone that everything aches, that there is no source when the source is you?”

“Which of my feelings are real? Which of the me’s is me?”

“You weren’t mine, at least never completely, never for more than a night at a time. You were that light happy feeling between sober and drunk. You were a “tell me when you get home,” “have a safe flight,” “good morning, beautiful” text message. You were never someone I wanted to marry or bring home to my family or cry to about anything at all. I liked you because you were easy and we were happy and light and free. And I can’t even tell you what happened but now you’re the taste in the back of my throat from that last vodka soda I didn’t need. Now you’re an “I miss you” text read at 10:57pm and never answered. Because we let things go too far and then slammed on the brakes when the light was still green. And now we’ll never know if it could have been great or just how great it would have been. And I wish we ended it while you were still good memories instead of bad tastes.”