I miss it too

smiles, sunsets, the warmth of breathing. movements in the dark, whispers in the cold, quiet endless beauty. fingers gently across foreheads, coffee and odd socks, toothpaste and jackets. wooden floorboards, huddled in couches, a closeness before dreams. faces turned away, and downcast eyes. hands in the sky, grass and feet and clouds. trickling across book pages, crawling in yellowed glows. the morning coming through those curtains, the solid realisation of skins, the colour of shoulders in the morning, and tangled sheets, and bad hair. spilling secrets, waiting forever.