I miss you in a way that I don’t really understand and can’t really express.
I miss the sound of your voice and the way you used to tell me you loved me.
I miss your eyes and how I could just stare into them for hours on end with no other purpose than to have you stare back into mine.
I miss your fingers and the way that they fit into my own.
I miss kissing your pink lips, and your soft hands, and your closed eyelids, and your smooth shoulders, and your fragile neck, and your flushed cheeks, and your scrunched nose.
I miss your eyebrows.
I miss how you would cook for me and how you let me cook for you, even though it rarely turned out well.
I miss how you used to cut my hair.
I miss the feeling of your body pressed against mine, thinking that I could die at that moment; happy that the last thing I knew was your touch, and in that your love.
I miss making you laugh, whether with me or at me.
I miss playing with your hair, and you playing with mine.
I miss cuddling to keep warm.
I miss waking up with you by my side, both of us tired and cranky, but still happy that we were together.
I miss arguing with you over the most trivial topics and being okay with losing because seeing you smile was worth defeat.
I miss singing to you.
I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you so damn much.
I miss you like the air when I’m underwater.
I miss you like warmth when I’m freezing.
I miss you like light when it’s too dark to see.
I miss you like I hope you would miss me.
I miss you like time slipping away; seconds turning to minutes turning to hours turning to days.
I miss you like the months that have gone by.
I miss you like the years that we spent together.
I miss you like the decades that I’ve lived.
I miss you like the centuries I will never witness.
I miss you in a way that I will never understand and can never fully express.
I miss you so much that I wrote this for you, despite knowing that you will never read it.
