i miss the feeling of running my fingers along someone’s skin. lightly scratching with my nails. little nibbles on someone’s collar bone. lying there silently rubbing legs and feet together. my fingers, like legs, running miles from their belly to their chest. feeling a bare chest against mine. not having to fill every silence with conversation, letting the silence speak for us. telling stories in the dark and entangling our fingers in the air. i’d make tea and homemade bread and we’d read. or i’d read or he’d read. or we could just snuggle up and watch trash television until either of us fall asleep. singing terrible duets terribly because we’re goofy and we can. truly admiring their talents. taking a hike in the woods with my film camera and just take a crap load of photos of them because i love the way they look out in the world. someone silly enough to watch the blair witch project with me and then go camping the day after. someone who could actually teach me some piano. mostly, though, lying on someone’s chest and listening to a heart beat. the slow rise and fall. the feeling that even though they’re asleep, and i’m not, it’s as though we’re still having a conversation.

someday, i will have this. and someday soon.