I miss him
Maybe he still checks my Instagram every so often to see my goofy smile in a sea of pictures, just to remind himself of what it felt like to be the one to make me grin like that. Maybe he goes through our old conversations and smile like an idiot. Maybe he misses our laughs, some jokes, staying late at night just to talk, being angry, and stupidly saying sorry, crying and tons of I love you and I miss you. Maybe he misses how I used to sing him a goodnight song, just so he would sleep peacefully. Maybe he misses how he missed me when We didn't talked. Maybe he’ll drive down the road to go get donuts with his mom and that song will come on, and his mom will ask why his shoulders tensed up. Maybe he’ll quickly change the song and say, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Maybe he’ll look at himself in the mirror and try to admire his eyes the way I did, but won’t be able to because he never saw why I viewed them as something so ethereal. But, maybe he doesn’t bother to think of me or the things I loved, because maybe he doesn’t miss me even a little bit, not even at all.