I Miss You, Too

Is it just me?

Or was it really you that I saw?

I saw your face in the crowd.

I know that face that stood out from a sea of people at the train station. Then, it dawned on me.

The roads I tread everyday aren’t the same as yours.

But I followed you until I’m about a couple of feet near you; so I could catch a glimpse of your face.

He wasn’t you.

Was that your perfume?

The one that smells of tea leaves?

I can smell you from somewhere.

There was a tingling sensation on my nostrils because of a familiar fragrance that wafted in the air.

I breathed in.

I followed where the fragrance was coming from, and it led me to someone else. Not you.

Was that your voice?

I thought I heard you calling my name.

I searched for you.

You weren’t around; it wasn’t you.

I called you instead.

“Hello?”

I smiled.

That is why I try to call, every now and then, to check out on you.

Your laughter, your inquisitive pitch, your engaging tone; they’re enough to get me through the day.

Am I dreaming?

There's a mirage of you in the heat of summer's day

 The sun is bright, scorching; my throat is parched.

I guess I'm half awake.

There were times that at night, after saying our good nights, I’d leave a space on my bed for you.

I wish you were beside me.

I’d put a pillow there, in your absence.

I hunger for your touch.

I’d close my eyes as my hands mimic yours; how you slowly caress parts of me.

My fingers would trace parts of me where you planted your kisses.

I yearn for the feel of your body against mine.

So you asked, “do you ever really miss me?”

I do.

I miss you.

I long for you.

*my entry to Magpie Tales

*photo credit