I’m Not Sorry For Missing You


City lights, Friday night.

While everyone is busy planning where and how to spend the night, here I am, walking aimlessly in this sea of people. I tightened my grip on the hot cup of coffee in my hand – hoping it would measure up to the warmth that your touch used to make me feel. But instead, this thing scalds my skin all the while failing badly to give me the warmth I have been longing for since you left.

You left. And I have been missing you since.

I glanced to the café to my right, the one that used to be our favorite, and for a moment I thought I saw you. A macchiato on your hand and a big grin on your face. It seemed so real until I saw myself on the other side of the table, laughing uncontrollably over your funny stories. Now it’s funny how those stories that brought smile to my face makes me tear up with longing. 

Exhausted, I arrived home after successfully closing a deal at work. Medium rare steak, warm water, red velvet cheesecake. Dinner was served just the way I like it. You have your way of knowing when and how to comfort me. I reached for your hand to thank you, only to find nothing but my phone. One message. And then off I go to find comfort somewhere else, on my own.

I felt your touch on my skin. Your lips on mine. Your warm breath making me shiver as you whispered how much you adore me. And I give in, fall over and over, and fade into a world where our dreams, emotions, and promises take over. Then it hurts. And now I’m taken back to the present— clutching my purse, kissing bottles, singing through the music while trying so hard to fill the emptiness inside me.

I miss you.

And in every corner,

In every part of every day,

In every song that I hear—

I am trying so hard to feel you and the way we used to be.

You have been my home, my safe place, my person.

You were always my choice.

And I was always yours.

City lights, Friday night.

I cried as I thought about all the things that we were. And I’m sorry that this is all that I could do.

I’m not sorry for missing you— even if it hurts, even if it digs the hole you left deeper, even if it slowly kills me.

I wish I could sleep tonight.