I am going to miss her smile and the curve of her face. There will be silence where her laugh used to be, nothing to echo around the house but the sullen padding of my footsteps.
I’ll miss the warmth in her eyes in the morning when I see her wrapped up beside me, seeking my curves for closure because her mind is scary at night and I have once again held her through it.
I will miss her.
And no amount of positive poetry or survivors of the same heartbreaking can tell me that I won’t. Because I won’t listen.
I would not love her if she was not worth being missed.
She has lit up every room I have been in for years and my soul was aching to be tangled up in hers and now it will be restless in my loneliness.

I will miss her.
I will miss her guidance.
Her friendship.

I will miss my best friend laying in her pajamas for our third movie night in a row. She always picks better movies.

I will miss how beautiful my future looked with her in it. I have to spend days cutting her out of pictures that don’t exist yet.
I will miss those pictures, those memories that have not happened.

My heart ache will be visible. And when strangers ask me what is wrong, I will simply say I miss her. In any voice.

Because that is all there will be.