People like to ask me if I miss you or just having someone there. I know they're trying to help, so I don't tell them, "No, I'm not a fucking idiot. I know how this goes, I've been here before. I've lived here before". The truth is I've thought about this even before we broke up, long before your love for me ran out, and long before it started to feel hopeless. The first time I thought about it was when I knew I could be with you forever.
The truth is, I want you. Only you. You with your crooked smile. You with your hairy chest - I hate that you shaved it. You with your ever changing mustache and baggy boxers even though I love it when you wear boxer briefs. You who hurt me and heal at the same time. You and your little strawberry birthmark and green eyes.
Always, you. Not the guy in the band, or the dude who actually looks like Thor (short hair, not long). Not the financial advisor or the project manager, or the pilot, or even the VP for that basketball team. I don't need help, or fake laughs, or small talk, or compliments. I don't need taller or more muscles or the bluest eyes I've ever seen. I know, I know. There are other fish in the sea, but I want the Captain of the ship.
It was always you, even when I didn't want to admit it - even when I refused it. It's just too bad it wasn't always me too.