I miss you.
I miss that twinkle in your eye. The smirk with bad intentions. The laugh loud and infectious. I miss watching your hair swish side to side as you walk out of the room. The way your skirt rises when you sit down to talk to me. Show me your boots, show me your shoes, I’ll pretend to care while I stare at your gorgeous legs.
It was better before.
We could talk about anything. We could share anything. Fears and desires and the nuances in between. You’d complain about the size of your breasts. I’d tell you they’re delightful the way they are. You’d ask me what I was working on, and I’d show you what I was writing. I loved the look in your eyes as they darted across the screen. Seeing your pulse quicken and your breath shorten. I’d send you snippets to your phone and force you to read them in front of me. I miss that terribly. Seeing you squirm and look up at me, asking for more.
I am happy for you.
But I can’t help but be selfish. For every point of strength you gained from me and added to your relationship I lost a little more. The closer you became, the further you slipped from me. Unwilling to tempt fate. Unwilling to push the envelope further. You pulled back and pushed me away. Phone calls are awkward. Glances are sideways. The attraction still there. Still buzzing at our fingertips, still hiding behind those eyes, but you’re just not here anymore.
I’ve lost you.