I don’t miss you.
I miss love.
I miss loving and being loved back.
I miss loving someone and feeling safe in that love, like they could never do any harm.
I miss waking up excited to see someone I love.
I miss starting my day with your peaceful expression next to me, or timing my activities so I can watch your shining face bob up and down in the alley as you’re returning from work, then seeing your face light up when you spot me in the distance.
I miss feeling like the world is bestowing upon me a precious gift whenever I see you.
I miss cooking and knowing that I’ll be filling the tummy of someone I love.
I miss hearing your satisfactory groan as you softly lay down after I feed you.
I miss going to bed in glee as I look forward to spending tomorrow with you.
I miss having something – someone – to look forward to every day.
I miss sharing my thoughts with whom I feel is the most wonderful person in the world.
I miss being able to touch whom I feel is the softest, most gentle creature at will, and holding them as close as I want.
I miss admiring your every movement and every word that those magical lips form.
I miss worrying about you and expecting you to worry about me.
I miss talking about nothing at all but having the time of my life.
I miss cancelling other plans to spend more time with you because every minute with you is precious and lovely.
I miss walking with a spring in my step knowing that I’m the loveliest person to the loveliest person to me.
I miss gleefully whispering, “You’re my favourite,” into your ear with any and no excuse.
I miss feeling like every day is Christmas.
I miss thinking that having met someone like you, life wasn’t all that bad.
I miss knowing that with you in my life, it could never get that bad.
I miss imagining happier days to come with you by my side.
I miss dreaming of all the things we could do together.
I miss seeing hope with my future.
I miss what we had, and I miss how it felt to be with you, but I don’t miss you.
I don’t miss the selfishness and the lazy, calculating way you look at me now.
I don’t miss the hurtful words you heartlessly throw around to have me at my knees.
I don’t miss the way you so readily walk out on me at the hint of inconvenience.
I don’t miss the spiteful, aloof way you change your tone with the slightest trigger.
I don’t miss the cold, careless person you’ve become.
I don’t miss the desperate insecurity you harvest in me.
I don’t miss the time I spend worrying if you’ll text back, if you’re avoiding me, if one day you’ll disappear without a word, or if you’re just using me for my endless affection until you find something better.
I don’t miss the shock of finding a knife in my back when I lean in for a hug.
I don’t miss the casual disinterest you take when you rattle my core.
I don’t miss the dread of my every doubt confirmed.
I don’t miss the outright disrespect.
I don’t miss the compulsive lying, denial, manipulation, condescension, humiliation, and unfathomable self-righteousness.
I don’t miss the struggle to feel like a whole of a person.
As it turns out, I don’t miss you.
I miss the rosy past.