I think about him all the time.

I check my social networks, just to see if he's left his mark anywhere. similar to the mark he left in me.
I make so many excuse for him. " Maybe he's not talking to me because he wants to get over me"... when in actual fact, I'm the only trying to get over him... Us.

I'm curious about him.
The way he smells when he holds me close.

How his hair would feel like as it brushes across my check and bounce on my neck.

I smell his Nicotine fingers as he grabs my jaw and pulls me in for a kiss.
I taste his tobacco lips on my ****** tongue as the dance in tangent, on a dance floor that is used to being 500 Kilometers apart.

I'm curious what it feels like to be surrounded by him, around him, behind him, next to him... with him.

I miss his messages:
The ones that got to me and the ones still hesitant to send.

I miss his imaginary laugh;
The one I hear when he sends the Emoji, the One he fakes, the one he exaggerates and the one she gets to hear.

I miss his hands;
The ones I'll never know the feeling of, but the ones that plan on holding me, grabbing me, caressing me... but right now...
The ones that are pushing me away.