The reason she misses you isn't because of who you are now,

It's because of who you were.

Playing with your hair at two in the morning while you two cuddled and listened to the Beatles in the background.

She misses when you used to nuzzle your head into her stomach when you were upset,

Or the way that you would listen to her corny, seemingly unimportant stories when no one else would.

Or the way that you created a playlist made for her on Spotify and the first letter of each song spelled out "I'll love you to the moon and back".

Or the way that you would actually listen to her music suggestions,

Even though she liked throwbacks and you liked rap.

She misses the way you would hold her when she was upset,

You wouldn't say anything,

You would just hold her and silently wish that the tears streaming down her face would turn into small rivulets and eventually stop.

She misses the way you would smile randomly while looking at her.

She misses the butterflies that you gave her,

Even though they've rotted since you left.

She misses the way your gaze could make her feel like the only girl who meant anything to you,

Even though she later found out that she, in fact, was not the only girl who meant anything to you.

She misses the way she could see everyone of your emotions in your eyes,

Well, until you started feeling numb.

Maybe that's why you broke her heart.

You were numb and you were hoping that breaking the heart of the only person who meant something to you would make you feel something, anything,

That maybe her pain would be so strong that you could feel it too.

But, by then, you were too far gone,

By then you were so wrapped up in your own, bleak sense of reality that even if you could make yourself bleed from the shattered pieces of her heart,

You wouldn't feel anything anyways.

And now you're using bodies to get you through the night,

Wishing that you were still holding hers.

Because even if you can't feel anything,

You don't let anyone sleep in your apartment anymore,

Out of respect for her.

You haven't washed the sheets since she left,

Hoping to still smell her distinct scent of some fancy shampoo and a matching body butter,

But you've slept on her side so many times,

Imagining that it wasn't your bed you were laying on, it was her stomach,

That the smell is gone, and all that's left is the smell of your aftershave - the one that she loved.

You refuse to buy a new shower curtain, even though yours is faded and has some rips in it

Because, sometimes when you're really tired, you can still see her silhouette in your shower,

You can still picture her blushing wildly and hiding behind the curtain while asking you for a towel.

You don't take down the pictures on your wall,

The ones that she was so excited to take.

Your first date, your first workout together, after your first kiss with her, after you both said "I love you", even though she thought she meant it more than you did.

You can still feel the decaying emotions in your chest,

But sometimes, when you think of her,

They start to resurrect a little bit.

Sometimes, when she thinks of you,

The broken butterflies start to flutter once again.