The Next You

Thoughts from a Friday evening past:

I miss you. I'm not even sure if it's actually you that I miss, or just someone. Someone to hold me at night when the phantoms of my dreams are closer than the darkness that surround me. Someone to hold me when dusk creeps in on the day and the cares settle upon my shoulders in a heavy sigh.

I guess I'm not even sure who you are. So many different memories and feelings, each a different stage of love, flash through my mind. All with the same reflective yearn to want to return to what was. But they're each fleeting, never lasting long enough to bring tears. There is always a final thought that the next you will be better than you.  That the next you will fill up all the cracks and empty places that you left. Fill them up fuller than you could have or tried to, and there won't be any lack or desire for more. it will be just right; enough. And I'll have that happy fear that I could love someone so much that my heart would swell so large in my chest and that I would never lose it. I lost it once before, but the next you won't leave like you did.

I miss you. The next you. Whoever you are. I miss you because I know what can and will happen and I want to give that to you. I want to give it all and not have to wait any longer.