sav ☀️

I miss you because of the way you lean on me when you’re drunk. The way you hold me when I come back to bed at 2 AM and you’re half asleep. The way every time you leave, I wish I could ask you to stay.

I miss you, not because of the way you want me and won’t admit it. Not because of the way you watch the way my back arches in the mirror. And surely not the way you steal the covers back from me in the middle of the night.

I miss you because I long for your touch. 827 miles from you and I can feel each of your fingers holding my waist, and how it would feel to be able to hold your hand in public.

Sitting on the sidewalk, we used to be young. Full of hope and shooting stars.

Yet the thing that let us down was the world. Too many lies and open space. Too many miles and judging stares from across state lines.

I remember our second first date. Neither of us called it that and it was over before we knew it. That was two years ago.