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I don’t miss you.
But I miss the little things, y’know?
I miss holding hands with you, our boots crunching through the autumn leaves, our cheeks rosy red from the bitter chill in the air but our hands, always warm.
I miss takeaway pizzas in bed with you, with a five dollar bottle of pink and leftovers for breakfast. Then lounging around in nothing but your dark green cable knit sweater.
I miss the way you made me feel beautiful, even when I unknowingly had chocolate cake wedged between my teeth. How I felt comfortable walking around bare faced as life intended, and letting you see me with sleep dust between my eyes as I woke each morning.
I miss our song coming on the radio, and that warm, fuzzy feeling that would wash over me every time. Day dreaming out loud with you, while picnicking in the park. And how you always used to save me from spiders.
I miss that feeling of safety when you cocooned me in your arms, your body like my very own Baymax. Those naked good mornings and sweet goodnight kisses.
I miss not running to you and excitedly blurting out my good news every time something amazing happens these days. It’s all left to build up inside of me, slowly suffocating to nothing.
I miss your mess. The way your clothes ended up everywhere, the trail of crumbs you’d leave down your shirt, and your habit of leaving ever single light on in every room in our house. The lights are all out now, and I miss how I can’t be mad at you.
I miss fighting with you over the stupidest things, and you always being the one to break the silence first and call peace. All I do is fight with myself these days, and you know I’m too stubborn to ever let it go.
I miss making homemade pizzas with you, getting flour in our hair, eating all the toppings as we go, and competing for the roundest, crispiest base. I miss traveling the world with you, making a home for ourselves anywhere; everywhere. That feeling that finally, I’d found found the person I was supposed to do life with.
I miss welcoming in the new year with your lips on mine; fireworks dancing in the skies above us. Not knowing what the next twelve months had in store, apart from the certainty of us.
I miss the time before I met you, when I wouldn’t have missed a damn thing.
But I don’t miss you.