I guess I miss more than your hands,
I miss your touch.
I even miss missing your touch,
and miss you missing mine.
And soon, I’ll miss that too.
But I don’t only miss the way you held me,
or the way you rubbed my fingers and never knew why,
I miss the way you looked at me.

No, not in some I love you way, not really.
But in a way where sometimes,
I believed that maybe,
I did change your life.
In some way at least, and maybe,
you were right, and I did  shape the person
you are today,
but I was never good at geometry, you know that.
In fact, I remember that you aced that class,
so maybe, you shaped me.

And I miss the way our eyes kind of met,
and I thought we could talk without speaking.
And I still think that, sometimes.

But the less we speak,
the more I search for you in your eyes,
and the more I feel like maybe,
one year from now,
we won’t be able to say anything at all.
I guess, muted eyes hurt me more than silent lips,
because we both know we never
needed words,
to communicate.