I have missed you for longer than I knew you, 
which is strange because I feel you 
in the cracks of our unkept house, 
the peeling floorboards and rotting siding. 
People tell me I'm just like you:
unstable, stubborn, and angry. 
Would you be proud?
Or would you hate these parts of me the way you hated yourself?
Would you admire the walls we built that refuse to break?
You would tell me to be better, 
not so reactive, 
bite my tongue. 
Yet, I would follow behind you closely, 
mirroring each step. 
I have missed you for longer than I knew you, 
which is strange because 
I see you in me. 
People tell me I'm just like you: 
my smile, my laugh, my protective nature. 
You would be proud. 
You would love me for taking on the best parts of you. 
You would admire me. 
You would.