The title does half the work before the first line begins. "missu" is lowercase, with two words jammed into one, the way a message looks when it is typed fast and sent before second thoughts arrive. It is a small, unpolished way of saying "I miss you," and the poem keeps that unguarded tone to the end. Nothing is dressed up. The speaker puts the feeling down and lets us look at it.
What the poem describes is longing tangled with guilt. On certain days the speaker is overwhelmed by memories of someone, and those memories lead back to a choice: "I wish I didn't pick rocks over you." The central idea is that regret is not only a thought but a physical event, and that an apology can be sincere even when the poem never tells us whether it is heard.
The opening lines show this well. "There are days where I feel so much" is deliberately vague, as if the emotion is too big to name. So the speaker names the body's reactions instead: "My heart pounds, my eyes sweat, my knees shake and my memories jog." Three of the four verbs are physical, and the fourth gives memories legs of their own. Together they sound like someone after a hard run, with the pounding, the sweat, the shaking and the jogging. Emotion becomes exhaustion. "Eyes sweat" is the oddest choice, and it sidesteps the word "cry." That awkwardness feels honest, like someone who can't quite say tears. "Jog" also carries the idiom "jog your memory," so when the next line says "They all go back to you," the memories seem to run a route that always ends in the same place.
That circling shows in the structure. The poem is free verse with no rhyme scheme, but three lines end on "you" (the third, fifth and seventh), and the title ends on "u." The repeated word acts like a refrain, and the poem keeps returning to it. The shape of the lines matters too. The second line is long and crammed with commas, almost breathless. Then the lines shrink, and "The feelings double" is flat and short, like arithmetic. Nearly every line ends in a comma, so the poem has no full stop until the last word. It reads like someone who can't stop talking until the hard part has been said.
The strangest word is "rocks." The poem never explains it. It could be a hobby, a place or something harsher, and we can't tell. That vagueness may be the point, since what matters is that the speaker chose something that was not the person. The word also works as a symbol. Rocks are hard, cold and unmoving, the opposite of the pounding heart and wet eyes in line two. There is a quiet irony in the next line, where the speaker wishes their "feelings were stable that day." Stability is exactly what rocks stand for. The speaker picked solidity over a person and is now anything but solid.
The poem also shifts in time. It begins with "days," plural and recurring, and ends with "that day," a single moment in the past. One day produces many. The final move is the plainest. After two lines of "I wish I...", the word "wish" drops away and we get "I didn't mean to hurt you." There is no metaphor and no excuse beyond the earlier admission of unstable feelings. It sounds like something said aloud, and it claims only what the speaker can truthfully claim, which is intention rather than outcome.
The poem tells us nothing about who "you" is or how that person responded. It could be a friend, a partner or a family member. Judging by the text, we hear only one side, and that openness lets readers fit their own story into the gap.
The poem's value lies in this restraint. It does not beg for forgiveness or build a grand argument. In a few short lines, one odd image and one bodily list make regret feel physical and immediate, and the plain last line is more persuasive than a polished one would be.