jmw

I miss you more often than I don’t.

When I feel devastatingly lonely in the middle of the night, I think about the nights I woke up wrapped in your arms. I think about waking up to the sound of you snoring, and kissing your face until you stopped. I think about the way you’d reach over in the middle of the night, and pull my arm over you. You’d pull my hand up just a bit further to your mouth, and half-asleep kiss my fingers. My fingers in your beard has always been my favorite feeling.