Too Much to Share, Really

A foreword: this is more personal than I'm comfortable with, but it's real, as far as that goes.  Pouring something out has made me feel better and free of it.  Letting anyone else in goes against my better judgement.  Be warned, is all I'm saying.

I'm 29 now and have been thinking of you recently.  So hard to let go.  Like it'll be breaking off a piece of me.  Me beneath the covers.  You telling me I'm beautiful, and I disagree but believe, because the two can co-exist here.
Saying goodbye to you is saying goodbye to odometers, cold tiles beneath my feet, waves breaking, elton john sung at the top of our lungs, coils of smoke, october nights, first snowfalls, thunderstorms, red plastic cups, driving at night.
I wonder if in the moments I miss you, do you stop walking whatever sidewalk, in whatever city, and all of a sudden think of me?  Do you start to sing Elton John songs?
Or, maybe it's all reverse.  Maybe I get sad because you decided to stop and think of me.