I miss how he would hold me at night…

One hand grabbing my pussy, the other touching my face as we kissed, or talked, or sang. I could wake up and fall right back asleep no matter what time. And there he was in the morning, still close to me, giggling about morning farts and squeezing me tightly like he couldn’t get enough. I miss him. His heart. What we had. When it was good. He doesn’t even exist anymore.