I miss him

I miss him
and I don't even know him.
I miss him because
I don't want to miss out
I don't want him to take a piece of life
I could have had.
I want these impressions to be complete,
these beginnings that are placed in my mind
to have a definite ending.
Because if I feel this much joy
in stillness,
if I feel this much joy
from the hypothetical, then
how great would time be
when I could actually pass it with you.
When my eardrums can vibrate
from the breathe your lips release,
when your warm palms can remold
My thighs with its heat.
Having you
would be as sweet as the work of bees,
as sweet as your song brushing over tree leaves,
as sweet as the sweat shared between our bodies needs.
How great would time be
when your words will match mine
because see,
we have the same mind.
I don't really know you.
But I do,
because,
You love music.
And I can tell by the way that you speak
that it is not a colloquial love
like those who listen for convenience.
But your love for it
is identical to the depth of mine,
when we resurface we breathe deep
knowing we almost died.
We see ultramarine
while the rest of them see light blue
and are distracted by the seashells.
See we match.
I know you
because,
you love with the soul.
You see the essence in interaction,
and not the type for satisfaction
that the world continues to test.
But no,
you see you and me,
we have the same line.
And though these words have never passed,
I know this.
By the way you walk.
By the way you express fatigue,
then smile when you look at me.
By the way you softly speak,
back it up with a rough making my knees weak.
By the way you surprise me with your seeming innocence
But underlying freakiness.
These are all the things you offer me
and it scares me
because
I have nothing comparable to offer you
nothing tangible at least.
Just that,
judgment filters out of my mind,
and I look at others with a kind
of be and I'll be, eyes.
Just that,
I act wanting all who will receive my words,
to know I love them.
Just that,
I am genuine.
But as I said,
it is nothing you can grasp,
nothing that can physically satisfy you,
nothing unbearably attractive,
nothing that would feed the egos of this world.
But if our differences
somehow,
together make a like,
then why is having you
so impossible.