Grab your things. We're going out. I miss you, a girl can only say it so many times before she sneaks out of her house to say it in person. I miss you, come see me. I miss you, you numb ignorant waste, come see me. I miss your shoulders and your shadows and the way you say good morning. Let's go get something to eat. Can we walk to McDo? Perfect. Do you remember your New Year's resolution? Do you remember what you told me last year; it was four-thirty in the morning and I was half-asleep on a boat on the way to an island whose name escapes me and you said good morning and that you loved me and that you couldn't sleep. I said that was okay because I needed you to keep me awake.
The way you used to look at me, the way you were never afraid to speak your mind, and the way that it unnerved me. I miss your annoying glasses and the formulas you never ran out of and how when you talked, it was always about some girl or science. Girls were a science, in a sense. I miss you.
I miss you. I want to leave post-its on your fridge. I want to fall asleep watching TV on your carpet. I want to meet your dog. Can we pretend it's seven months ago and we are who we once were and things are interesting and alright, and we can still dream.
