Tell me, then, what it means to miss someone, something. Is it the dull river ache in your chest when they're far away? Or the sharper rhythm when they're close-by, but just out of reach. It's like seeing a flash of brilliant light (there a moment, gone the next) and all you have in your hand is a small, dying star in the darkest of nights. Your eyes meet but don't quite catch; the words are struggling in muggy silence. What used to be. What it is now, an eclipsed shadow; stiff and lonely like abandoned moon craters. (Why won't our fingers touch?) The channeling is lost, is jammed, signals subdued, communication aborted. Smiles no longer true. But still, you try, dreaming of better days when everything was the purest diamond compressed into your naive hand. They last forever? Already tarnished, you scoff; a cascade of rust and awkward longings. You wish you could return, but this isn't the moon and those footsteps are long gone.

Come back to where you belong.

-

God, show me what I'm missing.