26.7.26
I miss your touch sometimes
your hands
the way your palm felt pressed against mine
the way your thumb drew circles on my skin
the way you'd pause to tangle your fingers in my bracelets
I don't miss you
there's not much to miss anyway
we still talk
we're still friends
it's the morethanfriends stuff
I miss that
the way my hands are always cold and yours always hot
the way you'd take my hands in yours and give them warmth
the way our skin slowly found a temperature to exist in together
I miss the way you were gentle
because you're not gentle
no one saw you as gentle
except me
I miss the flowers you made me
the small folded pieces of paper
tiny in your ginormous hands
I miss the flowers
because you don't do flowers
you don't spend time meticulously creasing sticky notes
you don't put thought and effort into just people
except me
I miss your touch
the way you made me feel
the safety of our intertwined hands resting on my lap
the way you'd tap my fingers with yours
the way you didn't pull away when someone saw
I miss the way you saw
the way you sought me out like I was worth seeking
the way you glimpsed my tiniest inconveniences
the way you'd fix them like it was a wrong to be righted
even though it was nothing really
I miss the way you were thoughtful
because you're not thoughtful
no one saw you as thoughtful
except for me
I miss the way you were safe
the way you didn't give me butterflies but kept my heart in that chrysalis
the way you grounded me like an anchor
the way I settled around you
but I don't miss any of that
not really
I'm glad it's over
really
I am
but sometimes
I miss the way I sought you out
the way I let myself expect
the way I didn't flinch at male attention
the way I leaned in
because now
every boy makes me nauseous
every glance makes my blood viscous
and suddenly my hands are cold all over again
except
this time there's bees in my chest
(not butterflies)
this time no one is here to ground me
this time there is no anchor
but I don't miss you
it's just that
sometimes
I miss






