I’m thinking of you breathing slow and even and wishing you rest.

I’m holding on to the sweater you forgot, it’s with my laundry.

I left a note on the mirror for you to find in the morning.

I put the lamp you hate back on the shelf where you keep it.

I washed the bowl you used and put it in the cupboard.

I remember the dent in your phone case and it made me laugh.

I made sure the kettle was off before I left the kitchen.

I folded the note you left and kept it in my wallet.

Your playlist is still on my phone; I listened to two songs.

I carried your laundry up the stairs even though I was tired.

I can’t stop thinking about your laugh right before you fall asleep.

I miss arguing with you about which show to watch before bed.

I still remember the scratch on your old blue jacket and smiled.

I’m thinking of how you hummed while washing up and it’s making me smile.

I put fresh water by your bedside lamp in case you wake thirsty.

I’m slower to sleep when you’re away; it’s just harder without your texts.

I want to say plainly: I care about you a lot tonight.

I made sure your plants are watered the way you taught me.

I woke at two and smiled at your picture on my phone.

I brushed my teeth twice because I remembered you teasing me about it.

I kept your ticket stub in my wallet and it made me happy today.

I’m grateful for your voice on my worst day; it settled me down.

I left your phone where you can grab it in the dark.

I noticed the dent in your mug and smiled, remembered where you chipped it.

I’m tucked in and thinking it was easier to be brave because of you.

I’m rereading the note you left and smiling until I forget the time.

I want you to know I notice the little careful things you do.

My phone’s on silent but I kept it facing you on the bedside table.

I’m lying awake thinking how calm you sound when you tell stories.

I kept your grocery list stuck to the fridge; seeing your handwriting calms me.

I'm falling asleep grateful for the way you said my name today.

Tell me when you're finally asleep so I can stop checking my phone.

Your wet umbrella on the stand made the hallway smell like you and rain.

I don't need a perfect night; I just need to know you're safe.

If you dream anything annoying, tell me in the morning and I'll make tea.

I'm going to bed thinking you were right about the film; goodnight.

I glanced at our calendar and felt calmer knowing your name is written there.

Sleep without worrying about tomorrow; I'll handle the small mess we left.

I put your scarf back where you said you'd find it tomorrow.

Your unanswered goodnight made me check my phone three times before sleeping.