I miss the way you occupy a chair.

I miss the way you occupy a chair.
I miss the way you fill a pair of jeans;
the movement of your breathing in my hair;
the cradle of your fingers’ inbetweens.

I miss the architecture of your stance;
The sleeping weight your arm rests on my waist;
The perspicacious thrumming of your glance;
The ocean way your lingering fingers taste.

I miss the shape you carve beneath a sheet;
the tickle of your curls against my palm;
your laugh’s arrival and its swift retreat;
the ripples of your thoughts against your calm.

I miss the sentences that you arrange;
the warming way your breath remembers tea;
your somber and your silly and your strange.
I miss the quiet way you you fit to me.