Old songs

I thought of you, last night. I was reading and listening to a sad song. Missing the sight of you, missing your touch, missing the inability to miss you. I cried. I didn’t tear up, I didn’t sob my heart out, but I really cried. I don’t know what made me feel the most, you, my book, or my sad song. But it all came back to you anyway. You’re my old song, y’know. I get you so stuck in my head, sometimes I hate it, but most times you’re a comfort. I’d like to lie and say it’s because you remind me of better, simpler times, but it’s just because it’s you. And I like the thought of you. Old songs come and go, but trying to forget them only makes them come back worse. You can’t really forget them, I think. They’re always there at the precipice, waiting to run back to you. But still. They’re just memories. And you’re not the one missing me back.