The title of Olajumoke Falohun's poem is easy to overlook, but it is really the first half of the first sentence. "I Miss You" flows straight into "More than i expect i would," so the poem starts mid-thought, as if the speaker has been turning this feeling over for a long time before anyone asked. The surprise in that line is the first thing we learn about her: she did not know how much this person mattered until they were gone.
What follows is a plain account of waiting. "Each day i pray that you / Will call or write" turns the wait into something close to a plea. The speaker then describes what happens when the wish comes true: "When i do hear your voice / Or see your familiar handwriting / I am again alive." The small word "do" carries a lot, because it admits that contact is not guaranteed. And "alive" is a strong choice. If a voice or a handwritten line can bring her back to life, then the stretches between them are a kind of numbness. The poem never says why the person left or how far away they are. We only get the bare fact, "before you left," and that gap keeps the focus on the feeling rather than the story.
The middle of the poem is its most revealing part. The speaker confesses, "I never thought I'd be so lost, not knowing what to do with myself." This is the longest line, and it sprawls across the page as aimlessly as the person it describes. Then the lines shorten into a pair: "Who to call at night, / Who to make weekend plans with." The repeated "Who to" gives a list-like rhythm, and the details are deliberately ordinary. Nobody in this poem mourns in grand terms. The loss shows up in the empty hour at night when she reaches for a phone and has no obvious name to dial, and in the blank weekend. The word "who" matters here, because it shows that this person was her automatic answer to every small question about company.
Only in the last three lines does the poem reach for figurative language, and it saves its single simile for the end. She misses the person's "shy eyes and constant blush," a detail so specific and tender that it makes the absent figure real. Then comes the comparison: "The way someone misses shelter / When caught in a storm." Up to now the speaker has said she is lost and lonely. The simile adds something new. The other person was protection, not just pleasant company. The picture is also quietly paradoxical. The one she compares to shelter is shy and blushing, hardly a fortress, so the safety she describes seems to come from closeness and ease rather than strength. Because the simile arrives after so much plain speech, it lands with extra weight.
Formally, this is free verse. There is no regular rhyme scheme, and the rhythm is that of speech, with sentences that run on across line breaks and a tone close to a confiding letter. The ending avoids the chime of a rhyme and finishes instead on the heavy word "storm." The text as given also has some roughness, such as an inconsistent lowercase and capital "I" and missing spaces after commas. These may be accidents of typing rather than choices, so it would be unwise to build an argument on them. Still, they add to the unpolished, immediate feel of someone writing while the feeling is fresh.
The poem's significance lies in its restraint. It makes no claim about heartbreak on a grand scale and does not blame or bargain. It simply notices, with some astonishment, how much of ordinary life had been arranged around one person. For a student reader, it shows how a poem can get its power from understatement: a few concrete details, one carefully delayed image, and an honest first line that admits the speaker was caught off guard by her own feeling.