I keep wanting the quiet of you next to me more than anything else.

I keep imagining your hand on my lower back guiding me through a doorway.

I want to trace the faint tan line on your wrist with my finger.

I keep replaying the way you hummed that song and missing it against me.

Remember your wool coat? I want to crawl into it and find you inside.

I keep thinking about the way you chewed your lip when you were focused.

Thinking of the tiny scar on your thumb makes me picture you closer.

I want to brush the hair out of your face and watch you react.

I keep remembering the way your jacket smelled after rain and wanting it.

The memory of your laugh under the lamp keeps pulling me back to you.

I keep picturing the calluses on your fingers and it’s making me restless.

I want to smell your jacket again and pretend the city faded away.

Seeing your coffee cup in the sink made my whole afternoon tilt toward you.

Thinking about the mole on your shoulder makes my thoughts go sideways.

I want to press my forehead to yours and stay there until you laugh.

The memory of your necklace against my shirt is distracting me all day.

When I smell your shampoo at the door I can't focus on anything else.

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.

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.

The thought of you humming while you wash the dishes is making me impatient.

Your text at noon about the meeting made my hands go somewhere very different.

I keep imagining you whispering exactly what you wanted to say but didn't.

I want the small, stubborn way you insist on paying for the dessert.

I can't stop thinking how your jacket smells after you leave it here.

I want your elbow on my knee under the table like last time.

I keep wanting the breathless pause when you catch me looking at you.