what
i
miss
most
is
how you loved me. But what I didn't
know was how you loved me had so much to do with the person I
was. It was a reflection of everything I gave to you coming
back to me. How did I not see that? How did I sit here soaking
in the idea that no one else would love me that way, when it
was I who taught you. When it was I that showed you how to
fill, the way I needed to be filled. How cruel I was to myself,
giving you credit for my warmth simply because you had felt it.
Thinking it was you who gave me strength. Wit. Beauty. Simply
because you refused to take your eyes off it. As if I was not
already these things before I met you. As if I did not remain
all these once you left.
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