I miss the warmth that comes from being held.
I miss the gentleness of arms wrapped around my waist,
and the feeling of a rough cheek pressed against my neck.
It is not you I miss, though I did once.
It is the sensation of safety, of time stopping, of being loved.
Some may miss passion, the moments of losing themselves in someone else.
Not I.
I miss falling asleep with the sound of another beating heart in my ears.
I miss listening to breath other than my own,
and forgetting for a while that anything and anyone else exists.