“I’m looking at him. I’m looking into his eyes and I see you.

“I’m looking at him. I’m looking into his eyes and I see you.
He’s smaller than you, built with a smaller frame.
He doesn’t laugh as much as you did, his laugh is so much different, but I still hear yours.
He closes his eyes and I watch his eyeballs roll to the back of his head.
I watch his dark brown eyelashes flutter as he rubs his eyes — they’re so long, just like yours.
He touches me. His hands are smaller. He looks at me and tells me I make him happy.
He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know me at all.
He makes me smile, but he doesn’t make me happy.
I feel my chest burn as the words escape his mouth.
My skin crawls when his fingers roam my skin; becoming familiar with territory that once belonged to you.
His fingers don’t feel the same. I miss you.
You were there, you knew me.
He doesn’t know how to touch me like you did.
I could laugh with him, but it wasn’t pure.
Where are you? I should be calling out your name. This isn’t right.
Every night, I fall asleep thinking about you.
The say that the last thing you think before you fall asleep at night, is what means the most to you.
But what do I do when a year changes everything and you’re no longer counting down the seconds to see me? Months pass and you’re falling asleep just fine.
I can feel my heart shatter whenever you come around; and that’s frequent in my troubled-missing-you mind.”
                       -Faizan