You do not need another heart to make yours beat, despite popular misconception.
This is not a love poem.
I miss you in my sleep.
I miss you in my shower.
I miss you gently dreaming next to me.
I miss you on long drives.
I miss you in every melody and every time I sing.
I miss you when I wake (from dreams in which you never appear).
I miss you when you’re close enough to touch (but always out of reach).
I miss you when you smile and silently stare into me.
I miss you when I drink coffee and every time I pass the sea.
Most of all, I miss the minute before we met, before that opened door. I miss the way I felt before you. I miss the ground under my feet because that night, you ruined me. No. this is not a love poem. Because I hate you for making me fall completely, uninhibitedly, foolishly, in love with you.