You

I've written so much about you

Not always directly, never giving you a name

But I filled page after page in my messy handwriting

In now abandoned diaries

And I filled page after page of various blogs

Throughout the years, the words have collected

And I've spoken about you too

With friends, people who knew you

People who know you

I ask them how you're

What are you doing with your life

But never if you're happy

Because I'm sure you are

With her

But despite all the words I've written or said

And despite all the thoughts I've had

Never before have I missed so much what we shared

Because no one after you, as few as they are,

Have succeeded in making me feel so part of something

None have made me feel so comfortable telling them

About some small observation made on my way home

Or some silly question I had about the universe

None of them have had the patience

And not a single one of them made me feel like

There was nothing wrong with the world

They instead made me feel other things

Anger at how absolutely stupid they were

Shame at their refusal to be amazed by life's little wonders

And being at a complete loss of words with them

Because nothing I could tell them would chase away the

Awkwardness, discomfort between us

And so today,

And ordinary day of the year

No messages waiting to be read

Sent by someone I was trying so hard to just like

Without comparing them to you

No phone ringing

A call that will go on and on for hours

Because there was just so much to talk about

Today,

As I realize just how alone I am

I miss you

More than I ever have