i don't miss her per se
not really-
not the way she stirred her coffee counter-clockwise
or how she spoke my name
ever so softly
like a secret
no one else could hold

i miss the feeling
of her-
that imagined life
woven in between shared glances
and almosts
the home i built
in her soft
gummy smile
before i saw the cracks

i miss what never even happened
the parallel version of us
the ones who stayed.
is that still missing her?
or just missing
being wanted
by someone
who never really could?

my ache has no address
no home
yet it answers
to her name
every time
like it's all i know
like she's all i know