Raspberries

I miss you. I miss you not locking yourself up. I miss you telling me you miss me. I miss you telling me you love me. I miss telling you I love you. I generally miss you.

Sometimes when you look at me it's there. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you laugh at me. But then something takes over and you remember you're not supposed to feel like that and it goes away again.

Last night you made me squirm. I liked it. It was almost like we were back to a comfortable place. Were we could just "be" again, and not have all the emotional shit hanging over us all the time. I like that place. I like that place a lot.

We still don't talk about it. I don't want to talk about it yet. I don't know if I'll ever want to talk about it. I don't even know if there is an "it" left to talk about. I do know that I miss you still. When I don't know when I'm going to see you again I panic a little. The jealousy is there...constantly tamped down and hidden. I think you know that though.

But as for the squirming...I like that you can still make me squirm. And I like that you occasionally do. You may just have to make good on it at some point though.