It's Not You, It's Me.

I know it’s not you that I miss, not really,
It’s my memories, my hopes for me and for you.
Only potential and possibility, never mind the probability.

I miss how your stories always carried you away,
Trying every accent, playing every role.
Sparkling eyes as I too got swept up along the way.

I miss how you’d lean into my space,
A casual touch of your hand on mine
To make your point and make my heart race.

I miss you holding court at the gig with your friends.
I miss the man I danced with to David Bowie,
Singing along the words to a song I hoped wouldn’t end.

It’s not you as a person that I miss, just so you know.
It’s the version of my future that wore your face.
I lent your name to a fantasy and now I have to let it go.

Author's Note

Any feedback at all very welcome!

Reviews

[Anna]

really enjoyed your poem. It is so true and I can understand what you are saying about how differently we are with different people and how you saw your future self with him and the idea you had of your journey.