I miss you even if I don't know who you are.
I miss your face and your voice and your smile and you.
I miss your everything.
I miss everything you are and ever were and I miss
every single thing you have never, ever been.
I miss you because I don't know you,
or maybe I miss you because I know--knew-- you so well.
Imissyoumissyou.
I feel empty without you, even if we have not met
because there's the gap that you will need to fill; the
gap that will be there when you are gone.
I miss the way you made me feel, the ways you will
make me feel.
I long for your touch, your presence. 
I miss you and me, even if we have never had a chance to happen.
I'll miss you when we have happened.
In the end it seems that I'm forever missing you.

I was really into Neruda when I wrote this. Don't know if it shows, but I was.