Missing

I’m sitting here drinking my morning coffee, and thinking about “missing”.

Missing is a strange thing that I never thought applied to my life. But, now you’ve flown away, I miss you with a fiery intensity. It burns and burns. It has no end.

Missing is unfair. It creeps up sneakily behind me and leaps to my side whenever you’re not here.

I miss the warmth in your eyes. And the smile that plays on your lips. I miss the sound of your voice… I can’t hear it. I miss holding your hand and arguing over the colour of the sky. I miss waking up in the middle of the night, feeling your warmth beside me. Your chest against my back, your arm around my waist, your legs bending in line with mine.

I just miss things like this. And you.

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