Missing someone is so weird.
It’s like a piece of me is missing, except every physical piece of me is right here.
It’s like I put together the entire puzzle, things are finally falling into place, and with two spaces left, I realize I only have one piece remaining. And I search and search, but I can’t find it. You can still see the big picture, but something is always missing.
It’s like that obnoxious itch on your left arm that Just. Won’t. Go. Away. And the more you think about how itchy you are, the itchier it gets. And suddenly you distract yourself just enough to forget about it, and then someone mentions their left arm, and oh boy there it is again.
It’s like that cookie recipe which has a handful of simple ingredients that you just know you already have in your house. So you start mixing and pouring and you’re almost done, you just reach for the sugar and… oh. You forgot about the cake you made yesterday that finished off the rest of that sugar.
It’s like the loading bar on your computer that takes forever to complete, but finally you’re getting closer. Just about done, 99% there… and that’s it. It stops there, never filling that last millimeter of empty space, never becoming one hundred percent finished.
It’s like the story that your parents tell you as you fall asleep, and so on the last page, right when you doze off and they realize you aren’t listening, they just stop. The story incomplete yet again.
It’s like every perfect beginning, every simply wonderful middle, and every unfinished ending. My days, my heart, never complete when you’re gone.
And so until we are together, the puzzle will remain with one piece missing. My left arm itching, and the cookies left to be baked. The computer will try to keep loading, and the story will have a bookmark on the last page.
Until we are together, the beginning will remain perfect, the middle will continue to be simply wonderful, and the ending… well with you there is no ending.
Without you, I am never complete.
But with you,
I am oh so whole.