Oh how you will miss me. On the days when you wake up alone, craving the touch of a lover, you will think of my lips and you will miss me. On the days when your day has been shit, you will think of my arms to hold you tight, and you will miss me. On the days that are sunny and happy, you will think of someone who you want to share it with, and you will miss me. On the nights when you lie awake in bed at night, you will feel the absence of my arms around you, and you will miss me. On the days when you see a couple walking down the street, chatting and kissing, you will miss my hand to hold. On the nights when you are alone in your room, and you wish for someone to talk to about the intricacies of your mind, you will miss my ears to listen and my voice to speak and my understanding of how your mind works. On the nights when you are so lonely, and feel so unloved and unwanted, and terrible thoughts creep into your mind, you will wish for my comforting words, and my warm arms, and you will miss me. On the days and nights when you are so sure that you made the right choice, that you are as set in your decision as you have ever been, you will still look back on the love you had for me and you will miss me nonetheless. On the days when you least expect it, whether your mind is at ease or it is running at a thousand miles per hour, whether you are surrounded by people, or you are completely and utterly alone, you will think of the man who would have been utterly loyal, who would have opened his soul up for you to view at your leisure, who would have done anything and everything you asked, who would have devoted his very existence to you and your happiness, who would have cut out his still beating heart and given it to you to hold, who would have treated you like a goddess among men, and you will miss him. And on the day when you have been missing him and missing him, and you cannot bear his absence any longer, you will still hold a false pride in your heart that will trick you into believing that you will 'lose' if you go back to him. But love is no game, it is no war, and there are no winners and no losers, there is only lovers. But that false pride will still remain, and as long as it does, you will miss me. Oh, how you will miss me.
