Missing you is feeling a sadness that seeps so deep into my bones and I carry the weight of it everywhere I go; it's pennies in my purse that I'm never going to spend and it's aches in my chest that never lighten up. It's thinking I can hear the shower running when I'm home alone, it's thinking I saw my phone light up only to find no new messages and it's waking up in the morning and wrapping my blanket tighter even though there will never be a perfect replacement for your arms. It's wasting days away because living without you whispering in my ear, without you holding my hand and without you kissing my forehead feels pointless. It's breathing in but never having enough oxygen to fill my lungs. But it's never cliché. It's never accidentally pouring you a cup of tea or shouting that the shower is free when you're not around to hear. It's not setting an extra place at the table and it's not picking up your favourite *** from the supermarket. Missing you is an empty sadness. Missing you just ******* hurts.