I Would Rather Miss You

I would rather just miss the way my name sits on your tongue and lingers, not wanting to leave but dying to be spoken.

I would rather just miss your hands, donned with chipped fingernail polish, caressing my favorite hot chocolate mug as I watch a drop spill onto the carpet.

I would rather just be etched into every idea and thought, swirling and threading my way through your life.

I would rather just miss your body sprawled onto my clean comforter, scrolling through your phone listlessly, completely confident in existing together.

I would rather just miss you because being there is not the same.

Being there is needing to do everything correctly but there is no correct way. I am always wrong. Or a little too late. Or a little too loud. A little too much.

Being there is thinking thoughts so loud I might explode.

So I do

and the shards reopen wounds that I begged to heal.

I love you, 

but

I would rather just miss you from here.