I miss you in an unconventional way,

the way I miss finding strawberry colored candy wrappers mixed with lint in the bottom of my drier,

and how the crinkled plastic envelops small pieces of dust.

It’s a feeling of comfortability — security.

I want you in my bed,

wrestling with sheets that slipped off corners,

and fumbling with switches on lamps to find your clothes.

Looking for shapes in the splattered paint,

and laughing at soft-core porn,

it’s sort of a hobby – an escape from 9-5 and catch 22’s.

We want to say we love each other,

it’s the elephant in the room – smothering us,

telling us it’s too soon.

Let’s just lay here,

and touch each other until the words come out. 

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