I miss him

Nights and early mornings are the worst.

At night because that was when we were together. I miss cuddling into the circle of his arms, knowing that I was safe and loved.

I miss hearing his voice as he talked into my ear. He always said that he wasted his best material on me, as I'd drift to sleep within minutes of being in his arms.

Feeling the solid warmth of him snuggled into me, feeling the circle of his arms, his heart beating against my back, his breath against my neck.

Awakening in the morning, feeling how we've shifted, now my arms around him, my body pressed into his, feeling his body, my breath against his back, his body spooned into mine.

I'd start with gently, but firm pressure, rubbing his shoulders, his arms, trailing down his back, his hip, thigh.

He'd moan, push himself against my hand, tell me how good it felt to be touched, to be loved.

I miss him.