Pssssst....

I still miss you.

I know I shouldn’t.

I should be over you.

But I’m not.

I miss you at weird times – mostly in the morning when I get up. I miss waking up to you, in your big, warm bed, in your big, warm arms.

I was getting over you.

And then you came by that night.

And you gave me hope with that last kiss. And with your hand on my thigh.

And I started to miss you.

Again.

And I think you miss me, otherwise why would you come by?

But we were both too afraid to do anything but miss.

And if you come by again, I don’t know that I could stop myself from doing what I wanted to do so badly that night.

Because…

I still miss you.