I thought I'd miss your mouth the most,
worn down teeth all uniform
from grinding them in your sleep,
chapped lips, refusal to use chap stick.
I thought I'd miss your laugh the most,
uncomfortable and weary
unless you were with me,
and I thought I'd miss your body
hip bones making bruises on my inner thighs,
pull me closer closer when you hold me and my hands
never stopped.
This morning I miss the way you smell,
and I can't describe it.
Scent is most closely tied with memories.
I want to smell you on my shirt the next morning
before I even roll over onto my side and kiss those chapped lips,
see those worn teeth smile
feel your arms around me pulling me closer.
I want to wear your shirt to bed,
but it means nothing now that the scent has left.