missing you

I'm tired of saying I miss you.

I'm tired of having to look at a picture just to see your face in the morning.

Tired of counting time in the spaces between us.

One day turns into a week.

That week turns into a month.

Still, I don't see you.

I'm relying on pictures to stay updated on how you look, like I'm following the life of a stranger instead of loving the person I call mine.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped knowing how your hand felt in mine.

Stopped knowing what made you laugh.

Stopped knowing the little things that used to come so easy.

It's a strange thing, watching someone become a memory while they're still alive.

Because we didn't end all at once.

We disappeared in pieces.

A missed weekend.

A canceled plan.

A few unanswered calls.

A rain check that never got rescheduled.

A conversation cut short because you were tired.

Small things.

Things that didn't seem important when they happened.

But distance is rarely built in one moment.

It grows quietly.

One absence at a time.

One day turns into a week.

That week turns into a month.

And before I knew it, I couldn't remember the last time I saw you.

Couldn't remember the last memory that wasn't already old.

That's when it hit me.

You don't always lose people when they leave.

Sometimes you lose them while they're still standing right there.

And I had spent so much time missing you that I barely noticed you were already gone.

Then one day I realized...

I had spent more time missing you

than actually being with you.