Missing

Sitting here, alone, with soft music playing in the background, the thoughts flow into my mind. I know that it was such a long time ago, years even, but you've stayed with me in many, many ways. There’s those seconds, where I'm caught off guard, where I recall missing you so much that I could literally curl into a ball and stop. Just… stop. It didn't matter what I was doing, at those moments, the small amount of emotion becoming something bigger, clouding me, controlling me, into a state that I don’t really miss. Although, like an old friend that you haven’t missed at all, those feelings are still a companion, part of me, left from that part of you.

I'm not one to pretend, unless I'm of course, acting, in some sort of play, with words created on a page in order to portray something A to this kind of B. But that’s what I had to do, at first, act. ‘It’s okay,’ I’d state, over and over again, until I actually believed everything that I’d written on that page in my mind. It is, after all this time, obviously okay, but not back then. There’s certain aspects that you simply cannot exclude. The way you moved, the things you said, the way that you said them and those eyes of yours. I've never heard my heart beat that much, so intense, with each breath from your lips, against my skin, I’d beat, slowing or speeding to your rhythm.

It’s one of those moments, where you can literally finish each other’s sentences. It’s alive, something more, something created between the both of you, seldom re-created but always leaving the two feeling alone when apart. Although I'm sitting here, alone, I still have the memories, created, re-created, but in a friendly way. I recall the laughter. The kisses. The moments.

Resting back into the comfortable chair, I realise that it simply wasn't to be. The chance of a million to one meeting, the magical dream of finding that mate from the souls surrounding us each day, is a difficult task at best. We fit, we meld. We become something new and, sometimes, for a time, it’s ever so perfect. But, as we’re now aware after many years, things seldom stay perfect. I truly believe that it is possible, it’s not a dream at all, to be happy for a lifetime. We just have to fight to remove that baggage that life throws at us. Don’t keep it, don’t carry it forward, let it go and try to be free.

If I speak about that time, those days, I can happily proclaim that I'm over it all, I'm past passing that event in my mind. It’s perfectly okay but, if I close my eyes, to remember your whispering thoughts, how close we were, the feel of your skin against mine, I start to melt. The defences fall, the masculine stance fails, the closeness appears and suddenly I'm not over those moments at all.

It can make me sad, it can make me smile, it appears to haunt yet it all comforts me. It’s life, it’s understanding, it’s the adventure of things. When I'm 86, no matter who or where I'm with, I’ll always smile no matter what’s been said, which thread I've indexed within my mind, because I’ll always return to the memory of you. 

I know that I have a space, within me, that’s missing, that vacant small void within my heart and soul, that will always be yours. I know that there’s been others, will be others, but you've taken that place with you, that small part within me, that you’ll always own. Maybe, one day, if we meet again, I’ll give you my address, the number of contact, to which you could send that part back to me. Send it back electronically, physically, to make me whole again.

On that day, if there ever is that day, I’ll smile and speak words of comfort, all the while knowing that I’d be searching for that look from your eyes. Until that day, the day of days, I’ll keep looking for something new, someone new, to possibly take that place that you held so very close to you.

Maybe, possibly, somehow, I’ll eventually stop this ‘missing’ feeling.