You

I still look at you, maybe not every day, but close.

I still dream of you. Maybe not every night, but when I do, I long for you. Long to hear your voice and feel your touch.

Long to see those eyes on me the way I want them to be with that smile and sadist’s chuckle. I love your chuckle. I love your way of being mean in just the right ways.

And I love your sigh and the need I thought matched mine.