I Miss You

I miss you, my friend—
Not who you are,
But who I thought you were.

I miss you, my friend—
What I believed we had:
the camaraderie,
the trust,
the friendship,
the togetherness.

I miss you, my friend—
the days when shared ideas felt like iron against iron.
But the shadows told another story—
heavier,
darker,
less pure than I knew,
and I wish I had seen it.

I miss you, my friend—
the version of us where your back met mine
and mine met yours.
But that union was an illusion,
held up by only one of us.

I miss you, my friend—
the season when my heart was naïve enough
to open without fear,
to believe without question,
to trust without guard.
Now I’m left with fragments—
shards in a heart that finally learned it had been betrayed.

I miss you, my friend—
or at least the friend
I dreamed you were.
Why did you hide your true self?
Why cloak your true intentions?
How did my eyes miss
what your actions whispered?

I miss you, my friend—
when I believed we were tethered
to the same calling,
the same journey,
the same end.
But the ending came early—
your path veering into a place
I could not go,
a place I never truly belonged,
a place I didn’t recognize
until the door had already closed.

I miss you, my friend—
not the truth that finally showed itself,
but the hope,
the ghost,
the memory
of who I once wished you were.