I Miss You

You are seeing other people.

Setting up your online profile. Making sure every line is just right. Choosing pictures that make you look handsome. Some of them are ones I took of you. 

And I am missing you.

You're going out on dates. 

Holding the car door open for a girl you just met. Smiling at her as she giggles nervously after everything you say. Putting your hand on the small of her back, the way you used to put it on mine, as you lead her through a crowded restaurant.

And I miss you.

You are sending clever, witty, perfectly worded text messages to the girl you went out with over the weekend.

Checking in, gauging her interest, making sure she's always wanting more. Showing her a little of the charm, plenty of the humor, the perfect recipe for dizzying adoration.

And I miss you.

You are checking in with me every so often. 

Sending me a text to see how I'm doing. Make sure I'm not going off the deep end or missing work or showers or anything. Keeping things light, trying to stay friends. You aren't in love with me anymore, and you don't want me to get attached, but you feel responsible, so you can't abandon me either. You remain caring but detached.

The friendly stranger.

I know this.

I've accepted this.

But still, I miss you.