i can't miss you.

but the air i breathe,
the people i know,
the emotions i feel--
dictate that it is but a lie.

why must my mind torture me
with this absurd anxiety of,
"does he still know i exist?" or,
"i wonder if he thinks about me,
as much as i do, him."
what a foolish, silly girl i am.



i don't know.
i miss you.