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I miss someone I haven't met

and I miss someone who let me go.

I've been melancholy too these days

a little sad and longing, more or less I miss the truth I thought I saw your heartfelt smile and broken words I miss the strength I thought I owned quiet adventures and more resolve I miss the life I thought I'd live and some places I've never been I miss some dreams of pleasant wings talent, beauty out of my reach The years will add more to the list, your name will be the thing amiss for I will no longer miss the voice, the smiles that lied to me

I came across your name by accident today. By typing half a name while looking for a friend. And there you were. The ghost of who you were. "I wish we could have been friends. For a while there I thought we were." A message that goes unsent, again.

I don't want to believe that you're a liar because I don't want to belive I've loved a monster. Scared but honest: I wanted to belive you were really trying.

I wanted so many things and trusted so many words... your words to me. By letting you go I'm breathing better

I'm starting to remember that bright colors don't need to be fugacious. I'm taking refuge in the beauty of foundations, in the steady ones that stay despite human falterings and flickers These days I am listening to your silence, and trusting its depths and seeing your hallow places, possibilities, ideas. I am flesh and bone and love of open hands and open talks. You're a flitting light on marshy ground luring in my hopes, inviting my smiles the scent of magnolias just to pass the time. It was all a mirage.

I've just come across a heartrending rendition of this song, and it is such an inmersive experience in it broken beauty...I wanted to share it with you. You didn't want to. Your silence has told me all I needed to know. All I wanted was for you to let me love you. To let me be, and be there. Tonight is a good night for love and conversation. This flood is a good night for breaking, for feeling the shards, for emptiness. Tonight is a good night for the brokenhearted ones.

I can't do this. Not like this.

I can't be hopeful for a while—elated even. And then be confronted by the reality of your distance and your lies: once again.

If you want to be close, don't say you love me, don't say you want to be friends, don't say you want to spend time together (here, or in a place like this, your treat). Don't say you'll call very soon. Don't say all the right words only to let them fall flat.

Don't talk to me when you're sad only to leave me in the dark when you're facing daylight and finding love. Why must you treat me like a stranger?

Do not help rekindle a shy flame only to drown it in torrents and snow showers. Do not invite me to see the stars only to lead me to black holes. Love is details, the small acts, the continual showing up that signals presence and gives a backbone to good intentions.

I've missed you for the greatest part of a year. I've missed your humor, your mind, your steady striving in life, the vulnerability I could only imagine in your voice sometimes. I've missed it all.

You came back unexpectedly for what I thought would be more than a few hours. But it was just minutes. It was a big event, like the upcoming lunar eclipse. But it was fleeting.

Let me mourn the loss of you in peace. Please don't taunt me with possibilities of honesty and the beauty of openess. Love needs more than a moment; it is more than a moment.

I want you, with heartache and longing, and the sliver of hope like a thin blade that refuses to perish.

I want you. Just not like this.