flying

it is a quirk,
missing you;
like the anticipation of a timebomb
the exhaustion of a thousand nights awake
like the way i will walk down the street
thinking of you
and suddenly lose my
sense of direction.

i wander through my thoughts
searching for you
and things that remind me of
your smell
is a memory
your voice the song stuck in the record player
of my mind.

it is a quirk,
missing you;
i am tumbling down 
because you are gone
but
rising up with pure joy
because i have found somebody
to so passionately feel this way for,
now.