As time continues to pass by, and months turn into years, I find my mind drifting to memories of you and me. It often happens in the most unexpected moments – like walking from work to my car, hearing one of our songs on the highway, or whenever I pass by your apartment.
But one thing I know for sure is that I never know what to do with myself when I think of you.
A part of me wants to pick up the phone and call you, text you, stop by your apartment all of a sudden and hope that we pick up right where we left off. Your lips on mine and my body safely wrapped in your strong arms.
I want to tell you that I’m thinking about you, nothing more and nothing less. So, I’d call you, text you. If I had the guts.
But I don’t.
I let the thought of you spin around my head for a bit. Relive the memories I have of your lips tracing every inch of my body, how everything about you just made sense, how something primal just came over you whenever you would lay me down on your bed – but yet, you were such a gentleman and completely delicate with my body.
I wonder about where you are, if you’ve already replaced me by falling in love with someone else, or if you ever think about me in random moments, too.
I want to know if you’re hundreds of thousands of breaths and unsent text messages away, doing the same thing – staring at your phone wondering if you should tell me that I’m on your mind.
God, I hope you are.
I hope you miss me when you least expect it and it takes your breath away. When you’re doing something stupid and suddenly you’re reminded of that silly face I’d make when you’d tell me I was beautiful – and for once in my life, I actually believed it when you said it. I hope you’re cooking dinner one night and picture me sitting on the kitchen counter wanting you to let the food burn while you set my body on fire in your bedroom. I hope you get in the shower one day and remember when I would always make you take baths with me. I hope you turn over in your bed and see her laying with her bare back to you, and you wish it was me instead.
I know it’s selfish, but I hope there’s still a part of you that wonders about me, that misses me, that still loves me and will always love me.
That even though we’re miles and years apart, you find yourself staring at something that reminds you of me, rolling it between your fingers, fighting with all your heart not to call me, to reach out to me, to tell me you miss me.
I don’t want you to call. But we both probably know that’s a lie. I only want you to call if your heart can’t take it anymore and you can’t imagine not hearing the sound of my voice.
But if you don’t call, just know it’s okay. I just want to know that you still think of me sometimes. That what we had mattered. That what we had was real, that while we were together, I was truly loved by you.
I want to know that it wasn’t easy for you to forget what we had either. That wherever you are, whenever you think of me, your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest. You know, like when you used say to me, “I never thought it was possible, but I don’t think my heart can even handle how beautiful you are, or how much I’m in love you. It’s going to end up killing me, I just know it.”
I know it’s selfish, but I hope you miss me sometimes.
And that it takes all your strength not to tell me that yes, I still care and yes, I still love you – even after all this time, and yes, I’ll always be yours.