Miss

Will you miss me when I'm gone?
Will you pine over the ideas,
That I could never write and articulate?
Will you miss the words I used to speak,
More than the ones I didn't?
Will you miss my smile,
More than my look of scorn?
Will you miss the post-selfie goofball face,
More than the one in the picture?
Will you miss the kisses,
More than the caresses?
Will you miss the passion,
More than the calm?
Will you miss the stories I wrote,
More than the ones I did?
Will you miss the skin on skin,
More than me wearing your clothes?
Will you miss the blue in my eyes,
More than the blue in the sky?
Will you miss my cold feet,
More than my warm heart?
Will you miss the adventures,
More than the sleep?
Will you miss the excitement,
More than the contentment?
Will you miss the fear of losing me,
More than the security of having me?
Will you miss the redness of my cheeks,
More than the redness of my anger?
Will you miss the beauty of my face,
More than you miss the beauty of my words?
Will you miss me when I'm gone,
More than you rejoice in having me near?