Five lines, no capital letters, no full stops, and still a small drama plays out: a feeling is described, the first comparison that comes to mind is thrown out, and the poem ends in plain repetition. Nothing is known here about the writer beyond a username, lyndsey599, so the poem has to speak for itself. It manages that well.
On the surface, the speaker misses someone, "him", and we are told nothing else. We never learn who he is or why he is gone. He could be a friend, a partner, or someone who has died. That blankness lets any reader step in, and it keeps all the attention on the feeling itself. The central idea is that real longing resists comparison. The more a feeling matters, the less any simile can carry it.
The poem builds this idea through one borrowed image. The sun and the moon are about the oldest picture of lovers kept apart, so the speaker's first move feels natural. Then comes the interruption: "no not like how the sun misses the moon because they dont". The speaker corrects herself or himself mid-thought, as people do when talking. The reasoning is slightly tangled but oddly convincing: the two bodies "have never even met long enough to say that". Missing, the poem implies, needs shared time, and you can't miss what you never had. By that logic the speaker's longing is better earned than the cosmic kind, because it rests on time actually spent. One could even hear an echo of an eclipse in "met long enough", but the poem never says so, and that is only a possible reading.
The rhythm follows the same loose, spoken pattern. The opening line is tiny, just three syllables, and then the poem surges. Lines two and three are long and run on across the line break: "because they dont / they have never even met". With no punctuation, the reader has to find the breath. Even the missing apostrophe in "dont" suggests speed, as if the thought were typed faster than it could be tidied. Then the lines shorten again, to a measured "but i miss him more deeply than that" and a flat final line. There is no rhyme scheme, but repetition does rhyme's job. Lines three and four both end on "that" ("say that", "than that"), which gives a click of closure. The word "him" also opens the poem and closes it.
The key words are few and heavily worked. Some form of "miss" appears five times in five lines, so the verb hammers away until it stops sounding like a word and starts sounding like an ache. "Deeply" is the only word that reaches for intensity, and it is a word of depth set against the height of sun and moon. The poem moves from the sky to somewhere much more interior. Then there are "like" and "how". The title, "how i miss you", promises an explanation of how. The last line, "i miss him like how i miss him", delivers a circle. The title's "you" against the body's "him" is also striking. Judging by the text, the title may be what the speaker would say to him, while the poem is what can be said about him, as if he were out of reach of direct address. That is an inference, but the shift is hard to ignore.
The significance of the poem lies in that final line. A simile is supposed to explain one thing by pointing to another, and here the speaker points back at the thing itself. This is a deliberate collapse. It suggests the feeling is its own category, understood fully only by the person who has it. It also feels honest, because the speaker doesn't pretend that a better metaphor would have worked. The poem ends where it began, going nowhere, which is how missing someone often feels.
For students, it is a useful reminder that a poem doesn't need ornament or a rhyme scheme to work. It can use everyday speech and a failed comparison, and still say something true about the limits of words.