It's a strange feeling I can't quite speak aloud.
I can remember your filthy hands and how they moved from the small of my back to the bones of my hips,
I can trace those movements over and over but I can't ever recreate the sparks you ignited in me.
No, your hands were burning and mine are reaching.
I can remember exactly how smooth your voice sounds in my ear at 2am and how your chest moves with every breath you take in your sleep.
I can listen with all intention of hearing you still, for hours, but only silence answers.
No, I'm alone in this bed and you're probably breathing easily.

It's a strange feeling,
Yes, I've been missing you.