Missing Poem by Anisa Tara

I'll miss you tomorrow,
Like I missed you then,
Yesterday and next year,
All my varieties of when.

I miss you even now,
But that's not your concern,
Your affections and sympathies,
I fail to discern.

The past tense is upon me,
The present has come too late,
The hours and hours I gave you,
And yet you made me wait.

Still I'd give you all,
Must I never learn?
My all is none of me,
The rest is there to burn.

Put a spark to this match,
Find in me what I desire,
It is to rid myself of you,
As I drink up this fire.

But I still have limbs,
And systems in repairs,
As long as I'm all there,
I will have to taste this air.

And if the gases close in,
Like the glare of the midday sun,
So the strings of my being,
Will be manhandled by one.

Soon another will take your shoes,
Don't feed your precious ego.
I imagine he will actually love,
For love you do not know.

Still life will turn on her spokes,
Wheels in monotonous sync,
And the unforgiving nights,
Will be all mine to think,

Of names permanently etched on my list,
Broken fingers glazing,
Over, the one I still miss.