Miss you

I could tell you I missed you, but what would be the point? When you already know that I do.

I could tell you I missed you, but it wouldn't change anything, because I would not miss you more than the sunrises and lattes I have become accustomed to.

But I see you in every morning, in the dew, in the light that peaks through the windows. You are in every cup of coffee. And I can still taste you, both sweet and salty.

I could tell you that I miss you, but you already know that I do.

And I can tell that you miss me too.