So maybe I don’t love you anymore. Maybe I don’t ache for your touch or daydream about your smile anymore.
But I miss the way it felt.
Sitting on the counter while you made dinner, and lying with you in bed tangled up.
I miss running my hands through your hair and feeling your touch.
When I lay in bed with no one beside me, I don’t picture you there anymore. But I do know that I miss having someone there.
I miss my happiness as though the stress was never an issue.
I lived a little too much in the future with you, and not enough in the present. If there’s one thing I could re-do with us, it would be that. I would bask in the togetherness when had, when we had it – not beam at the improbable future us.
I hate how difficult it is moving on. It would be easier if I could just hate you.
A selfish prayer: I hope that I move on first.