I miss her. I miss her for all the reasons I don't. I miss her for her autumn smile that gently squeezed her eyes Her un ribboned hair that coughed a great deal of fragrance on my face And complicated my senses. I miss her for her easy ways The tilt of her head in marvel, widening of her eyes in surprise I miss her for all the cliche reasons I thought were good reasons. I miss her for her silences She had the voice of a nightingale, but she was the least talkative I urged her to throw words at me, but all I felt was a vacuum.   We sat there all alone, her and me And I felt the world worked just fine without words I miss her for the things she kept to herself  She had been through tempests, bearing scars from the cracks She was a shaken person. The most composed shaken person I shook her back and forth and she held me. I miss her for her dreams She wanted to go places...with me. She wanted to give the world a chance through everlasting love She was my ever-last. The rhyme to my