The Kind of Missing That Doesn’t Hurt You

Dear Centauri,

I want you to be okay.
Even if that means you’re not beside me.

I want you to eat well.
Sleep deeply.
Laugh at something so dumb you snort.

I want the people around you to recognize your depth
and not be afraid of it.

I miss you,
yes.
But not in a way that resents your distance.

I miss you like a song left playing in another room.

I still dance,
even if it’s faint.

Always,

Castor