The Way You Feel

I feel bad for anyone before you I ever said
"I miss you," to.
It was a lie because I never knew what missing someone was
until I started missing you.

Missing the way my heart turned into a guitar
every time you found my lips.
You knew how to pluck every single on of my heart strings.

Nothing has ever said love to me like the your voice speaks reason into my irrational heart,
and the way you carry my heavy heart with your weak shoulders.

When I think of you here I don't know how it feels.
It doesn't feel like Sunday mornings, or Summer nights,
it doesn't feel like clean hallways, or laundry day,
because you are not nostalgia, and I know you never will be.

The only feeling you remind me of
is how bad I didn't want you to leave.