That little smirk you get when you're plotting something has me planning the evening.

Your footprints by the bed make me want to follow them instantly.

I want you to brush the hair from my face and not ask permission.

I keep thinking about your fingers fiddling with your watch and wanting them elsewhere.

Your sleepy goodnight this morning has been the most provocative thing all day.

I want your elbow on my ribs while we pretend to watch TV.

I want to be the reason you forget what you were about to say.

I keep craving the way your thumb presses the back of my hand.

You in my doorway, one hand on the frame—that image keeps looping.

I want you leaning over me with that concentrated look you get while reading.

Your cologne on the collar of my shirt has me counting the hours.

I keep wanting to sneak into bed and steal the space next to you.

I want to trace the scar on your knuckle and not stop.

Texting you at my desk because the memory of your lips distracts me.

I want you pressed against the kitchen counter while the kettle boils.

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.

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

I keep imagining your laugh right behind me and it tightens everything.

My mind keeps going back to the scratch on your knuckle from last week.

That chipped mug you use is the image I scroll to between meetings.

I’ll complain about the chilly room but stay put because you’re the actual thermostat.

Bring the cracked phone case; I’ll invent a ridiculous backstory for the crack.

I’ll pretend to grumble about your playlist and secretly love every song you pick.

I’ll steal one sock and make a case study out of your reaction.

I’m making a playlist of songs that guarantee silly dancing between couch cushions.

Stay in your pyjamas all evening and I’ll treat them like red carpet attire.

Come over with wet hair and I’ll grumble but secretly enjoy towel theft.

Bring the dodgy slippers and I’ll bring an even dodgier movie selection.

I’m putting the heater on low so you’ll have to come closer for warmth.

Cancel dinner — I’m bringing your favourite takeaway and socks that don’t match.

Your message at noon made my skin remember places only you know.

Your scent on the coat I borrowed has been tormenting me between calls.

I want to trace the line where your shirt ends and your skin begins.

Your shoelace coming undone this morning is the thing I can’t stop picturing.

I want the quiet of you undressing a problem from me with a look.

That little freckle by your collarbone has my attention more than it should.