I'm keeping tonight for the memory of your breath quickening when the movie cut to black.

Think about the mixtape you made years ago; I'm thinking about the song that always makes you reckless.

I'm awake replaying the way your shoe hit the stair and you paused—then kissed me.

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

That crooked grin you make when you win at cards is exactly the thing I'm craving.

I'm lying here wanting the slow confidence you show when you say my name in company.

Tell me tomorrow if you felt how I swallowed when you touched my elbow today.

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 want the look you give me when you're pretending to be annoyed but you're not.

That crumpled note you left in my book is making my thoughts much less bookish.

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

Think of that stubborn button you refuse to fix and how I like fixing it for you.

I'm replaying the way you leaned in when we danced and how you stayed close.

Don't be surprised if I text you in the night remembering your teeth on your bottom lip.

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

I want the stubborn look you get before you stop joking and get serious with me.

I'm smiling because I remember the promise you whispered and the way you meant it.

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

I keep thinking about the way you tightened your grip on my wrist in the subway.

Picture my fingers on the edge of your jacket while you pretend not to notice.

I want the patience you have when you brush my hair and then the impatience after.

That half-finished sentence you left me with is what I'm going to dream about.

I'm staring at the ceiling imagining your scarf sliding off the chair and you following it.

Tell me in the morning how you wanted me when the lights were green and we missed the turn.

I keep replaying your phone call at lunch and how quiet you got halfway through.

Remember the laugh that turned into a bite on your lip—bring that back to bed.

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.

I'm lying here wanting the small, stubborn kiss you give before you go to work.

Stay where you are and let that memory of my mouth on your ear haunt you.

I can't stop picturing the heat in your voice when you said my name today.

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 keep replaying the way you smelled when you left my hoodie on my chair.

I like that you whispered the answer tonight instead of saying it across the room.

I’m smiling at the way you pronounce that one word badly and I can’t stop.

I’m thinking about how you squeezed my shoulder before you left and it’s still with me.

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