I could say ‘I miss you’ a million times,
But the words just lose their meaning.
It’s like they are meant for a one time expression of pain,
Like the act of missing someone is a solitary hard hit,
That is then retracted when expressed.
But missing you is not a single blow,
Or a gunshot to the heart,
It’s a slow and steady simmer,
Right beneath my veins,
It’s a dull blue thread,
Woven bitterly in with every minute of my day,
Connecting them as one,
Slow little pain.