I keep wanting the way you press my palm to your chest and hold it there.

I want the careful way you fold my letters and tuck them in a drawer.

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 to stand behind you in the doorway and count the freckles on your arm.

I keep remembering how you teased my playlist and wanting to hear you sing along.

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

That tiny freckle on your collarbone keeps popping into my day in all the wrong ways.

I want to feel your phone buzz and see you smile because it's from me.

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

I want the quiet of your chin on my shoulder while we do nothing at all.

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

I want to steal the cigarette you pretended not to want and kiss you for it.

I keep thinking about your shoelace coming undone and you kneeling to fix it.

I want the slow, exact way you say my nickname when nobody's watching.

The memory of you buttoning my shirt wrong is driving me a little crazy.

I want to hear you tell me what you missed about my cooking.

Still remembering the taste of your pastry on my cheek and wanting the follow-up.

I want you leaning over my shoulder while I read, close enough to breathe.

Your laugh in my kitchen is the thought that's making me grin at my desk.

I want the way you braid my hair when I'm too tired to care about it.

I can't stop thinking about you sliding into bed and saying 'stay'.

I want the hush between us when you look at me and don't say anything.

I keep imagining your fingers finding the rim of my coffee mug between us.

I want the slow way you take my coat off—no rush, just you.

I keep wanting to say your name out loud when the apartment is quiet.

Remember the bar stool you kissed me on? I want to finish that sentence.

I want to shove my feet under your blanket and stay there while you laugh.

I keep picturing your whisper against my neck and it's making work impossible.

The thought of your hand on the small of my back is distracting me.

I'm still tasting the coffee you made me that morning and I want more.

You in my head at 3pm keeps me counting minutes until I can text you again.

I can't stop replaying you tucking my hair behind my ear that night.

I want the neat, quiet way you undo buttons when you think no one's watching.

I keep replaying your whispered question from the sofa and it makes me restless.

The way your knee knocks mine under the table is the small electric I keep craving.

I want the impatient tug at my sleeve that means you're not waiting any longer.