Across All This Space

I miss you in the moments that drift soft between the days. In the stretch of silent hours and the quiet, wordless haze. I miss you in the sunrise when the sky begins to glow, and wonder if you're watching from a place I'll never know. I miss the shape of your laughter I've only ever read. The lines between your stories, the thought left in your head. You're not a memory or a moment, you're the pulse behind my screen. A voice that's filled with comfort, and eyes I've never seen. I miss the weight of your presence in a room you've never walked The way I feel you near me, every time we deeply talk. I miss the touch I haven't felt, your warmth I only dream. Yet somehow you feel closer, than people I've long seen. I miss the simple things with you like silence shared with ease, the way your name feels different when whispered in the breeze. I miss you when I'm laughing and I wish that you could hear the sound of joy that's softer, because you're not near. But still I hold this aching not as sorrow, but as proof that love can cross all borders, even oceans, and even truth. And though we haven't met yet, Still, I swear this much is true: Some part of me is waiting, always reaching out for you. ~Vee