I Don't Miss You

Do I miss you? No, yet that’s not true.

I miss my childhood home, miss my loving

cat, my backyard. I miss my room, my

safe space. I miss the cigarette smoke,

the scent of your car. I miss my 

Grandparents. I miss my tree. I miss

spontaneous car rides with you that don’t 

end in fighting.

I don’t miss you. I miss the pieces of you

I have left. I lost so many along the way.

I miss what I can of you, but I don’t 

miss living in endless turmoil. I miss

late-night talks on the porch, barely able

to breathe because of second-hand smoke

in my lungs when you’d tell me the

missing pieces.