i miss him. if i stay still and close my eyes i can almost imagine he’s here. i can rake through my memories and try to relive it, even though it’s a ghost of a touch. a ghost of him.
i remember what it’s like to be in his arms, my face buried somewhere in his chest, warmth filling my chest as i finally relax into a sleepy state.
i remember holding his hand in the hallways as we joked, his laughter sounded like music to me, his smile it’s own piece of art to me.
i remember the weight of his hand on my shoulder whenever i was upset, a reminder that he was there, something to ground me when i needed it.
i remember him kissing me on the cheek, something sweet that filled my stomach with butterflies, as i would try and stutter a response, both of us grinning and happy.
i remember it all. i know i always long for the past, but i can’t help but imagine doing it all again and more. imagining brings its own pains, a void that cannot be filled. i miss him.