I miss you. I miss you so. ****. much.

I miss you with every step and breath I take.
But no.
I miss you more than that. So much more.

I miss your fingers entwined with mine, your thumb doodling patterns across my knuckles.

I miss your voice, the inflection and emphasis of your carefully chosen words, hearing you laugh when I laugh.

I miss your breath tickling my neck at 2 AM, and waking you at 3. Kisses, love, and challenges to follow.

I miss once-in-a-while 4 AM kitchen dances. Aaliyah serenading our modest rendezvous.

We believed it was the perfect time for a dance. Not quite morning, not quite night. But for us, it was just right. The essential in-between moment of blurred clarity.

I miss our blurred clarity.

Our oxymoron.