Clenching sheets, summer breeze,
I miss the mixture of shitty beer and nicotine that you left pressed on every part of me.
Like the way you laugh when you think something isn’t funny, or the way your hands are rough and calloused like a piece of drift wood dried out after floating at sea for years;
And I can’t help but obsess over what you’re thinking about, what goes on in that mind that runs a thousands miles and spins in figure eight shapes all day, forever focused on tomorrow’s and never yesterday’s.
Maybe that’s what I admire about you most, your uncanny ability to never look back, while I ruminate in the past and day dream of a three day romance that ruined me in the most divine way.
I hear your voice like it’s still whispering silky lullabies into my ever attuned ears.
I feel your touch like you are still running your bony fingers up and down my spine, touching the curves, breaking my waves.
I taste your mouth just as it was; sweet, almost salty from the little sweat drips from your upper lip, as you traced me from skull to limb, up, down, and again.
I see you, God, do I see you, and it is like an explosion of a thousand bombs going off inside my head and showing themselves in the way I gaze at you
-the way I crave you.
I always crave you.
Close my eyes, clench my sheets, and hope to wake up to you, my summertime breeze.