You.

I miss having a boy to call my friend.

I blame you.

If you hadn’t captured my imagination like you promised you would, perhaps on lonely nights such as these, I would just curl up, read a book and fall asleep. But my hair itches for your fingers to run through them. My ears miss your mouth singing it messages of how everything would be okay. My eyes yearn for the twinkle that would light up in the corner of its dark recesses. My nose longs for the musky scent of you. My mouth misses the little gurgles that escaped it every so often when you tripped on purpose. My hands ache for what once it held close.

I blame you.

12 thoughts on “You.

  1. I’m sitting here wondering what to write in reply to your post, because I do want to write something. Here it comes: This sounds like every other dialog in my head or at least very similar to it. Hmm, sometimes it surprises me, what I my mind tells my fingers to type, or it’s my sleep deprivation…dunno.

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      1. You’re welcome. My soul feels like there are only 3 little dots left instead of feelings. ‘…’ Just like that. I better go to sleep now before I get even moodier. I hope you will be ok though…

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  2. “I just miss your face cause we never got to the point where you were so close that i could hear your heartbeat…but still, I miss your face.”

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