When you’re not there I am walking through the streets I catch a scent of you and it stops me in my tracks, I find myself closing my eyes and taking it in realizing where I recognize it and looking around for you.
When you’re not there I lay asleep in the dark of the night in the bed we shared, I feel you move and I roll toward you to hold you and kiss your shoulder only to find myself alone. I lay there alone missing your warmth.
When you’re not there I walk through the warehouse where we began to know each other, I think I hear you yell out my name like you did so many times just to stop me so you could laugh; I miss the sound of that.
When you’re not there I think I hear my phone give me a text alert and I get excited thinking it is you, but there is no text and my heart sinks remembering how much I love reading your quirky messages.
When you’re not there I think that I hear the word baby muttered behind me and it sends chills down my spine and as I turn to smile at you you’re not there, and I realize how much I love when you call me that.
When you’re not there I whisper to the wind “I love you” in hopes that the wind will carry it to you so that you could hear me whisper it to you as I have done so many times as you sleep.
When you’re not here I stay busy to keep my mind from playing all of these tricks on me, reminding me of just how much I value your presence, how much I miss you, how much I have grown accustomed to you being right there for all of those scenarios, and how much all of those little things mean so much to me.