7/2 poem - I kinda miss you

when i ended things,

it felt like the right call.

you were kind of all over the place—

messy, loud,

never knowing when to stop talking

or start listening.

and i was exhausted.

not because i didn’t care—

but because i did.

and caring for you felt like

carrying both our lives at once.

so i let go.

told myself it was time.

that you’d find someone

who matched your chaos

better than i could.

and maybe i’d find peace.

but no one warned me

that peace could be so quiet.

that after all the noise faded,

i’d miss the ridiculous things you’d say,

the way your voice cracked

when you got too excited,

how dumb you were

in that weirdly loveable way.

you were my headache

and my comfort.

my walking ick

and my favorite distraction.

my “ugh why are you like this”

and my “come here anyway.”

and now you’re

someone else’s idiot.

someone else’s headache.

someone else’s

“i can’t believe i like you.”

i don’t want you back.

not really.

but some nights,

i do wish i could

borrow you for a second.

just long enough

to laugh again.

just long enough

to say “i miss you”

without it meaning anything

but everything.