Miss You

 I still miss you.  

Sometimes.

Or, maybe,

I miss the Idea of You,

of the future I envisioned. 

A future of children, grandchildren, of companionable silences

  of adventures, conversations, a hand to hold....

But when I seek my bed at night, heart heavy with loneliness,

   longing to be held, to be heard and seen -

I remember.

I remember all the nights I wept alone,

ached to be understood

while you slept, careless.

I remember the lonely hours with you; the disappointment and hurt.

All the times I needed you to run to me

  and you sauntered instead.

All the excuses I made for you,

excuses that sounded falser with every repetition....

And yet.  And yet -

I still miss you, sometimes.