I want the routine of stealing your hoodie and returning it with promises, forever.

I want to stay the one you call when plans crumble, every single time.

I want to keep being the person who knows your coffee order by heart.

I want to keep stealing the corner of your book and leaving kisses there.

I want to be the reason your phone lights up with a grin, forever.

I keep imagining your feet under my blanket and it ruins my concentration.

I want to spend every holiday stealing the same seat at your table.

I want the smell of your jacket in my pillowcase for years.

I want your voice over my shoulder for the next decade.

Thinking about the chipped mug you always grab turns my whole afternoon electric.

I want to fall asleep beside you tonight and every night after that.

I keep picturing your fingers undoing my jacket and it makes me plan weekends.

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.

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'm counting the minutes until your lips find my neck again.

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.

I want the way you challenge me with one eyebrow and then give in.

I can't stop imagining your hand finding the remote and refusing to move.

I keep replaying the way you whispered 'stay a little' in the car.