i haven't smiled like this in god knows how long

i promised i’d stop writing about you,
vowed i’d stop thinking about you.
but it’s 3 am and i fucking miss you.
i miss you when i’m in the
shower, in my bed,
on my sofa. when i’m walking
along the
canal, counting cobblestones
and reasons not to call
you. do you remember how we used
to walk along there?
i miss you when i pause at the end
of my driveway, you first kissed me there,
breathless in my blue skirt.
i miss you in my arms.
oh, what a traitor memory is. what a
saviour. i can’t recall how you
tasted, how you smelled. just wisps of remembrance. memories of memories.
but i remember
what you felt like.
it’s been over six months.
has there been a day i haven’t
thought about you?
i wonder how long i haunted you for.
(oh not long, not long)
i fantasise about reuniting. but if you
passed me in the street you might smile
if i’m lucky
but you would not stop.
ask me how i am, ask what i’m
doing, tell me good morning, tell
me i’m beautiful, tell me about fantastical worlds, tell me about faraway places,
kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,
i know this sounds like a plea, not a poem,
but, god, haven’t you missed me?
—  L.H.