I miss you. I miss your gentle grace, your smooth passion. I miss the deep, cool darkness of your mind, your whole delicious rumpled self. I miss the kisses on the backs of my knees, on the insides of my elbows, and the wonder filled curious touch of your slender hands. I miss your fingers touching, dancing, reaching. I miss your head touching mine on the pillow, the laughter in the dark of my room when we watched the shadows play on the ceiling. I miss your reverence and confusion. I miss so many things.

I miss the curve and arch of your neck, your hips cradling mine. I miss that moment, etched in my mind, when you lifted me in your arms and kissed the sorrowful tears from my eyelids. I miss your words, your talk, the steady generous manner in which you spoke my name, your voice on the phone.

I miss your scent of secret sleep. I miss the tremble in our bones.

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