I Miss My Right Hand November 27, 2009

My secret love. I want so much right now to shout out loud, to express it, to tell someone how I feel. I miss him. I might love him. But for now let’s just say that I miss him. Bad. So bad. I want to write everything inside of me. But it’s hard. There’s too much to say. So let’s just say that I miss him.

I miss having to share my bed.

I miss waking up to someone next to me.

I miss the company I had 24/7.

I miss the way he lovingly bullies me.

I miss how he buys me flowers. It surprises me everytime.

I miss sitting on the couch with him and watching tv for hours on end.

I miss watching him play with my dogs.

I miss his laugh.

I miss his smile.

I miss his eyes.

I miss him tickling me.

I miss his soul.

I miss his aura.

I miss the silly dancing.

I miss the good food we have together.

I miss eating with him.

I miss doing chores with him.

I miss having a best friend by my side.

I miss him running his fingers through my hair till I fall asleep.

I miss waking up to still find him stroking my hair.

I miss him shushing me to sleep.

I miss how he wakes up to take care of me when I have a bad dream.

I miss someone caring for me when I’m sick.

I miss how he’s so selfless.

I miss how I had everything in the world when he was around.

I miss the ridiculous accents.

I miss the lame jokes.

I miss the quiet moments together.

I miss the spontaneous outings.

I miss how he’d do anything for my happiness.

I miss feeling secure knowing someone’s there to catch me if I fall. Or jumped.

I miss him calling me cute.

I miss him.

So much. I cry.