With each breath I'm missing you, breathing in a rasping dry breath.
It seems to burn down to the hollow of my soul.
Memories they flood, now mixing up. I thought I missed only you,
but I miss many.
I find that many are a part of me now. It is not just you,
there are many.
Each having a part to play, each having a part in me,
each deserving of my attention.
What shall I do with this feeling? I should not,
long after only you.
I should, enjoy the many that have become
a part in my life.
How can I miss only you and perhaps leave out another
who has a part to play?
I must move on, pay my respects, but in the end,
know you are only a part.
There yet remains a whole to be built from my life,
a whole song, a whole book,
not just a verse, or a chapter.
So then, I will breath this painful breathe that it may give me
a lesson from missing you.
First written: Opinionsofeye.com