I Miss...

i miss him. there, i said it. it's there in black and white. i miss him like crazy.

• i miss half waking up for a kiss, as he gets out of bed and heads off to class.
• i miss getting out of bed, and slipping into one of his tshirts or sweatshirts on my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
• i miss checking in with him several times a day, to make sure everything is okay.
• i miss his nagging me to eat and take my pills.
• i miss the feeling of expecting him home.
• i miss going downstairs, half-dressed, to let him in.
• i miss the feel of his cold lips as he kisses me in the elevator.
• i miss snuggling into him, as we warm each other up.
• i miss his arms around me as we cuddle.
• i miss the smell of his shaving cream on his cheeks and neck.
• i miss running my fingers through his hair, and flaking off dry skin.
• i miss his hands absent-mindedly caressing my arm, back and bum.
• i miss his pulling me in towards him, for a kiss.
• i miss his tongue, gently easing into my mouth as he kisses me.
• i miss our silly nicknames for each other.
• i miss lying on his chest, and feeling his heartbeat speed up.
• i miss getting excited together, by each other.
• i miss our bodies melting into each other as we became one.
• i miss spooning.
• i miss falling asleep in his arms.
• i miss hearing that he loves me.
• i miss him.

******

(part 2)

i miss his love.
i miss his respect.
i miss his concern.
i miss knowing that he is there.

i miss the way he would stroke my cheek.
i miss his reassuring touch.
i miss holding hands.
i miss his kisses on my forehead.
i miss him holding me when i cry.
i miss the mole on his back.
i miss the single stubborn white hair on the bridge of his nose.

i miss knowing he’ll take exactly seven minutes to arrive at my door.
i miss showering with the bathroom door open so i can talk to him while he works.
i miss trying to force myself to stay awake while i wait for him to come to bed
i miss clutching a blanket over myself while he chats with housemates, wrapped in a towel.
i miss curling up together and discussing the day.
i miss having his head on my lap.
i miss the indulgent way he’d look at me when i was getting excited about something childish.
i miss stealing all his clothes.

i miss the silly little notes we’d leave on each others desktops.
i miss the paper hands that would wave from the tops of markers.

i miss buffing his nails.
i miss revolving around and around in the shower.
i miss him nagging me to dry my hair and stop dripping on things.
i miss him yelling at me to get off facebook.

i miss spaghetti.
i miss him playing with my hair.
i miss playing with his hair.
i miss trying to eat chips quietly so i don’t wake him up.
i miss falling asleep at the library while he studied.
i miss crawling into bed while he naps, just to be near him.
i miss listening to him breathe.
i miss kissing him while he slept.
i miss his irritation when i would wake him up.
i miss how he would stop being irritated long enough to kiss me.

i miss how ticklish his left hip is.
i miss kissing his inner elbow.
i miss sitting on his lap.
i miss spending lazy sunday afternoons watching movies in bed.

i miss his clothes.
i miss the glass of water on the bedside table.
i miss the toilet paper rolls.

i miss the combined smell of his shampoo, shaving cream, deodorant and laundry detergent.

i miss how exasperated he would get when i refused do laundry.

i miss him wanting to blow things up to solve geopolitical problems.
i miss fighting over the comfy chair.

i miss having teddy tell me secrets.

i miss being a revoltingly cute couple.
i miss others envying our stability.

i miss eating half of his dinner after saying i wasn’t hungry.
i miss him feeding me.

i miss not being scared to feel things.
i miss not being scared to cry.
i miss not being scared.
i miss our openness and honesty.
i miss not playing games.
i miss talking about everything.

i miss believing we would live happily ever after.

i miss him not hating me.
i miss him wanting to be with me.
i miss him loving me.

i wish he still could.