I Miss You.

And I wonder if she missed the way I smell and the taste of my bubblegum. The way I say “I love you” even when we’re fighting. I wonder if she missed when I used to slow dance with her when we were alone, or that when I sang along to a song, I sang for her. I wonder if she missed the way I touched her face as if it were delicate enough to shatter. I wonder if she missed me when I missed her. When I miss the way she could tell I was sad, from my eyes. How I miss her every imperfection and how she looks in my clothes. I miss how close she’d hold me while I slept. How she loved every part of my body, even the ones I hate. I miss the way she made me feel when our bodies were close enough to be one and how I wished I could get into her head when she danced with her eyes closed. I miss saying goodbye and how I tried to take up every last bit of her. I even miss the way she broke my heart, but fixed it with every smile. But most of all, I miss her heartbeat and how it used to be mine.