I want the dangerous softness you only give me after midnight.

I want the small, reckless promise you make when you're tired and honest.

I keep going back to the way your jacket smelled after the rain.

Remember how you hummed in the kitchen—remember it louder, and think of me.

I'm awake picturing your thumb tracing the scar on my palm.

I'm lying here wanting the quiet pressure of your forehead against mine.

Your perfume bottle on the dresser is calling to me in my head.

Hold onto the memory of my hand on the small of your back tonight.

The thought of your fingers on my collarbone is keeping me awake.

I want to wake up tangled in the sheet you always kick off.

Think about that coffee-stained shirt you wore—I'll be thinking about unbuttoning it.

Your socks on the bathroom floor are making it very hard to sleep calmly.

I want to fall asleep thinking of your jaw against my neck.

I noticed you fixed the loose button and it made me proud of you.

I’m holding the little paper crane you folded and it’s on my bedside table.

I fell asleep thinking of the joke only we find funny.

I’m carrying the quiet you left in the kitchen with me to bed.

I’m glad you corrected me tonight; your honesty matters more than praise.

I remember you turning the key in the door and felt suddenly at ease.

I’m looking at the playlist you made and nodding off to our songs.

I can’t stop replaying your ‘goodnight’ and it’s enough.

I’m wearing the shirt you left here because it smells like your apartment.

I fell asleep thinking about how you fixed the lamp tonight.

I like that you steal fries and pretend you didn’t.

I read your short voice note again and it calmed me down.

I’m lying here smiling at the photo of us on my phone.

I slept badly but thinking of your message helped me settle.

I love that you insist on the window cracked when you sleep.

I’m holding onto the receipt from our takeaway because it’s ours.

I can’t stop picturing your messy bun from tonight and it’s making me calm.

Your laugh replayed in my head and stopped me from worrying.

I like that you steal the blanket and I don’t mind.

I’m still awake thinking about how you hummed through your keys earlier.

I keep replaying your whispered question from the sofa and it makes me restless.

Your laugh stuck in my ear is a slow burn I can't shake off.

I want the low, deliberate way you say my nickname when no one's near.

Your scent on the pillow is a low, persistent wanting I didn't invite.

My day narrows down to the moment I can lean into you again.

That freckle near your collarbone keeps reappearing in my thoughts.

The memory of your scarf left on my chair has become my current obsession.