It’s not necessary, my missing you
moving through my days there
are moments when you do not cross
my path of conscious thought

It’s when I stop, receding into a
calmness, body still, heart on fire
lending fuel to imagination of ifs,
whys, and should have beens

It’s there in the tiny spaces of time
where attempts to make sense of
the us we had created mystifies
me in a cloud of lovely deception

It’s here when woman and girl
become transposed, confused
I am one, sometimes the other
within me the girl, your view

It’s how everyone else sees me
though, a woman only with duties,
responsibilities, things to do
that is the person they know

It’s now, as catching a glance
in the mirror of my hallway
I look for her, his girl, your girl
that when lingering, she appears