I miss you.
It pisses me off because this should be done. I should be over you.
I’m not. I thought I was doing good until a song came on that reminded me of your laugh. Of being next to you.
All the legal papers on my desk soak up the tears quickly (linen and crest paper rock). My muffled sobs still seem to echo in this empty building.
I think it would be easier if you weren’t real. But you are.
Easier if you didn’t love me at all. But you did.
So much easier if I could turn off the faucet like the flooded house, but I can’t.
Easier if I could paint over the ache in my heart. But I can’t.
Easier if I didn’t know you that you were one of a kind. But I do.
Easier if you didn’t have a kid that I really like. But you do.
And I miss all of it.
