I Miss You

I miss the curve of your chest on my back.
The individual vertebra miss the bones of your ribcage
the way a child misses it's blankey.
My back misses the rise and fall of your breath.

I miss the smell of your neck in my nose.
The smell of Axe swirling into my brain,
giving it the illusion of intoxication.
My nose misses the high.

I miss the warmth of your skin against mine.
The pores miss the smell of your sweet flesh
seeping into them, mingling with my own.
My nerves miss your touch.

I miss the slight smirk that occasionally plays on your mouth.
The way your eyes glint, calls the corners of my own lips
to rise.
My lips miss meeting yours.

I miss holding your hand.
The way my small one fits into your palm perfectly,
radiating heat and comfort in just that little connection.
My hands miss the creases in your palms.

I miss waking up to your drowsy face.
The way your arm is over my hip,
bodies locked together, sharing the heat.
I miss you.