I want to trace the seam of your jeans and see if you'll shiver.

Leave the light on upstairs and I'll find reasons to climb the stairs slowly.

Every coffee I make tastes like the idea of your mouth on mine.

I want to press our foreheads together and promise nothing except to keep kissing.

I like the bruise from your backpack strap on your shoulder—it's an invitation.

I keep imagining tracing the freckle just below your collarbone with my thumb.

You took the call so I could finish dinner and I appreciated it.

I’m cheered by the way you call me by that silly nickname.

I like that you asked how I slept this morning instead of assuming.

You pausing to listen to my rant felt like an actual gift.

I kept your joke in my head all afternoon and it made me grin.

You fixed my bike chain and I’ve been thinking about your hands.

I noticed you cleaned the coffee tray and it made the morning easier.

I’m thinking of you and how tired you are, and I want to help.

I felt softer knowing you took the trash out without being asked.

I woke smiling because I remembered you humming the song last night.

I like how you always remember to warm the mug before pouring.

I’m glad you took the extra half hour to nap; you needed it.

You handled the call with Dad and I noticed how calm you were.

I keep thinking about how steady your hand was at the dentist today.

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’m practicing my best sulky face; come home and decide if it’s convincing.

I hid the TV remote; negotiation skills will be required for retrieval.

I will loudly serenade the cat unless you come home and make it stop.

I’ve rehearsed a ridiculous excuse to get you out of boring Zooms — you in?

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.

Your laugh in the hallway at lunch rerouted my afternoon plans to you.