I want to taste the salt at the corner of your mouth from when you smiled at me before we fought.

I keep imagining the creak of our bed tonight and how you’ll be the one making me forgive you.

I want to press my hand to your chest and count the beats until you decide to stop being stubborn.

Still hot about the way you walked away — want to catch you and not let you leave.

I want to find you under the duvet and make sure you remember how badly I want you.

I keep thinking about your phone on silent and wanting to break it just to feel your arms around me afterward.

I want to cup the back of your neck and not let go until you smile again.

I keep replaying your apology that turned into a laugh; I want to turn that laugh into something more.

I want to stand behind you in the kitchen and press into you until you turn and give up the argument.

I’m still annoyed but every time I picture your footprints by the bed I want to follow them.

I want to tug the hem of your shirt between my fingers and make the night about something else entirely.

I keep thinking about the way you bite your lip when you’re stubborn — want to make you stop with a kiss.

I want to press my palm to the crease of your elbow and stay there until you soften.

You waving your keys in frustration is stuck in my head; I want to pull you back through the door and into me.

I want to pull you into the pantry and hush the argument with my hands.

I keep wanting to trace the callus on your thumb and say sorry with my mouth, not my words.

I want to mess up your hair the way you like and make you forget why we argued.

Thinking of the freckle above your collar — want to kiss it until you remember I’m yours.

I want to press my mouth to the place your necklace rests and see if you forgive me.

Still mad, still picturing your hoodie hanging on the chair — want to wear it and taste you.

I want to steal the spoon from your bowl and then steal your lips right after.

I want to smirk at you from across the room and then close the distance until you can’t dodge me.

I’m half furious, half aching to tuck my hand into the belt loop at the back of your jeans.

Thinking about the dent your elbow left in the armrest — I want to put my hand where yours was.

I want to press my forehead to yours and let the fight melt because I’m burning for you.

I keep picturing your phone buzzing with my name and that makes me want to be near you.

I want to make up by nudging you awake tomorrow and eating breakfast off your shoulder.

I keep imagining your shirt on my floor and the way you would look if I tugged it off slowly.

I want you to chase me down the hall and steal a kiss the way you did before dinner.

Still thinking of your coat button I repaired last week; want to slide my hand through it and keep you close.

I want to interrupt whatever you’re doing tonight and kiss the spot behind your ear, hard enough to make you laugh.

I’m craving the small of your back under my palm, even while I’m mad.

Every time I pass our couch I think about how you smelled this morning and want to press you there.

I want to forget the fight by pulling you into the bathroom and stealing a quick breath against your collarbone.

I’m still heated over the stupid argument and imagining your thumb tracing the scar on my wrist.

You saying my name like that earlier is the thing I keep returning to; I want you right now.

I can’t stop thinking about the way your hair fell across your face today; I want to move it and kiss the line it made.

Texting because I still want to take the zipper down on your jacket with slow fingers, even after arguing.

I wish I had reached for your hand instead of turning my back — I'm sorry.

I don't want tonight's argument to be the last thing between us; I'm sorry.