I’ve been staring at this blank screen
with it’s blinking cursor
taunting me.
I’ve been wondering what to write for hours,
weeks,
months,
years.
Two years since we stopped talking
and I’m staring at this blank page and all I can think of is
you.
I miss you, and I care about you, but
I know I shouldn’t.
I just want to feel your bony arms
wrapped around my hips;
to hear the lullaby of your laugh
or the softness of your voice at 2 A.M.
And I guess I could be really poetic about this,
but no similes, or metaphors,
or any combination of 26 letters
seems sufficient anymore.
I just
miss you
and
I care about you
and I guess I just though you should know that first.