I miss telling you I miss you.
The way you used that crooked smile.
The way you pulled me tighter after
midnight.

I miss the random phone calls
Asking if we have sugar,
Or if I'd like you to grab something
on the way.

I miss our closeness.
Not only between our bodies.
I miss the Mariachi music outside your
window.

I miss your struggling sensitivity,
And your easy understanding.
I miss how I never missed you before you
left me.

 
A friend told me recently
that she considers winter in
California over by February.
 
That means that I made it.
I survived my very first winter
without you.
 
It’s amazing how life fills in
the gaps. One minute
you were so, very, there.
 
The next, I was living in
an alternate universe.
One where you didn’t exist.
 
There are things that I miss
about you, still. Your opinion.
Your mind. Your eyes.
 
They were warm.
A sunny day in Chicago warm.
A day at the beach warm.
 
I have always been cold.
Known for holding onto the things
that push me away.
 
It’s not over for me, even after
all this time. Who else would
I write about at midnight?