Missloving


I miss you. I miss your hair.

I miss your voice saying my name

I miss you fingers on my neck

I miss the nights you’ve been here,

And the nights you haven’t.

I miss you coming all wet to meet me because it’s pouring outside, I miss you laying close to me, I miss myself messing with your hair. Have I already said how I badly I miss your hair? Your lips on my back, drawing feelings I’ve never felt before. I miss how I feel when I’m with you, how childlike I laugh when you tickle me and how I plan my revenge on you, but you’re always faster, you grab my wrists and hold me against the bed, then, the game changes and I don’t feel like a child anymore.

I miss you riding me home just to get our first kiss. I miss our first six ours of talking about nothing at all in that bar. I miss us talking about our dogs like there’s no tomorrow, that’s one of the things I most like about you: no matter how much I talk about mine, you’ll always talk more about yours.

I miss your sweet accent when you say you have an “Idee”, is there a sweeter way of saying it? I miss the shivers it gives me each time I hear you saying it.

I miss how hard you try to read something in Spanish, but you’re stuck with some of the sounds, I miss how I repeat the sound to you, but you keep not achieving it, and you say it again and again.

I miss how you feel like home to me, even when you are gone early in the mornings while I stay in bed a little bit more.

I miss you, I can’t deny it, but I won’t tell if you don’t say you miss me first.

This could be ok, maybe I shouldn’t feel it, maybe I should, who knows? What I do know is that, as sad as it could be, it makes as much sense as it does now if you exchange every ‘miss’ with a ‘loved’.

Who would be able to tell the difference? Not me, not now…

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