Missing

I’m nostalgic
even when there’s so much
to look forward to.
My past is my present.

How beautiful missing is.
I see my memories as pictures
that make me smile,
and I find a warm place in me.

Even the unberable things
are precious in my books.
I dealt with them somehow,
in that past that’s not my present.

I’m missing them.

I’ve come so far,
and I’m still looking back.
Somebody stop me.
I’m missing my present.