I miss you.

I hate to say things like that, as I am sure you know.  I miss you like… no other. I miss you like ham and eggs. Hamandeggs. Like that. I cannot recall another time when I had missed someone as much as I miss you. I sit at my desk, and suddenly I will feel utterly alone, because that is exactly what I am.

I was reading a thread that talked about ‘praising the good boyfriend’. There was a post of how a girl made which described her man’s features and as I read that, I couldn’t help but smile. I thought of how I would describe you.

You have eagle brown eyes, most of the time of which are earnest and alert.

When you laugh, the skin around the corner of your eyes crinkle. I found myself, after a few weeks of watching you, looking for the smile and laughs in which you genuinely had lost yourself in the moment. Those are the times I knew I wanted you the most.

Your nose isn’t anything remarkable to anyone else, but since whenever I lean up to you, I have to look up at, I thought it needed some recognition. I love it when you bury your nose against me, or when you brush it against my cheek, or when you nuzzle me and tell me, as if you were sharing a second, that you were going to bite my nose. And so I love your nose. You cute, tan button of a nose.

Sometimes I put my head down, and I try to imagine myself back in the times you sat at a keyboard, typing away, and I was next to you, my head on the desk, hearing nothing but your typing—I was listening to you doing what you love. Sometimes you stopped, and there was silence. Those times you stroke my hair, and press your lips to my forehead. It was those times I wanted to know what ran through your brain.

I miss your small torso against mine; when I saw you every morning I just couldn’t wait to slip my arm around your waist, and show you off—my arm decoration. “Look, guys, my man my man has twice your brains, and he’s hotter, too.”

Your lips. Oh, dear, what can I say about your lips?

Half the time they taste like coffee, my love, but does not negate the fact that I still love them. Sometimes I just want to bite them, or keep them with me.

I cannot remember the last time we kissed. There were times I was very busy, and you’d pull me aside just to traverse my neck with those lips, and I thought “oh, god, don’t do this to me now,” because I know if you continued, I would give in completely to you.

I miss you hair and how it felt against my lips.

If you only knew how much I love you…

--Ruse