I Miss You

by rheeb

It was a Monday.

You stood, wearing a white blouse and blue pants that hugged your hips.

You looked lovely.

I was dying inside, desperately wanting you.

And a flood of grief burst within me, knowing that it would never happen.


You didn’t know I felt like this.


You came near me to change the A/C.

You slowly lifted your leg onto the desk chair to reach the controls.

And I, losing any semblance of sanity, reached to grab your ass.

But something stopped me.

So, I left the room and cried like a baby in the abandoned showers.


Oh, how I wanted to be with you.

I wanted to marry you.

And have a little girl.

Her name would be Autumn.

You would have carried her.

My egg.

While I worked to take care of you.


But today, I look back on that dream and inject adult sanity into it.

If we would have married, we would’ve been divorced within the year.

You’d have custody of our nine year old.

I’d probably be on drugs—living in the woods somewhere.

But in a sober moment, I’d head to the library and write about how I wish I would’ve never met you.

How I wish I wouldn’t have grabbed your ass

And had a baby with you.

I’d write about how I am a horrible mother—never seeing my beautiful daughter.

I’d write of how my life was ruined.

How one move can change the course of everything.


I loved you.

I still do.

I dream, at times, of meeting you at Denny’s.

We chat while you eat breakfast. 

And then I pay for you.


I want to talk to you about the things going on in my life.

About how I’m moving to California.

How I’m finally writing.

I still want to make out with you.

And flirt with you.

Like we used to do.

It was so fucking awesome with you.

So yes, I’ll say it again.

I love you.

And probably always will.

But most importantly…

I miss you terribly.

I miss your smell.

Your warm skin.

I miss your soul, opening for me, like virgin thighs.

I miss you.