Missing You

I miss all the tiny gestures that told me that you liked me too.
I miss finding your eyes in a room of hundreds of people.
I miss laughing with you.
I miss every fibre of my being seeking out your presence on the office floor.
I miss knowing I’m the reason you’re smiling today.
I miss being sat close to you, barely able to breathe.
I miss watching you push at the boundaries that separate us.
I miss drinking with you, your arm casually around my waist, our faces pressed together singing awful karaoke.

I don’t miss going to bed alone.
I don’t miss knowing nothing will ever happen, knowing you have a wife and kids at home.
I don’t miss knowing you’re actually a complete ****.
I don’t miss getting messages from you in the morning, saying you can’t remember what happened or apologising for drunkenly overstepping the line.
I don’t miss worrying if other people noticed, worrying if it will affect my job.
I don’t miss being powerless