The Longing

I miss you. Miss your comforting presence in my everyday life, I miss it. I miss your honest smile, miss your hearty laughter, your fuming anger, that irritated expression of yours over silly things, I miss it. I miss walking with you under the moonlit sky, waking up to your warm breathing against the back of my neck, I miss it. I miss sitting next to you sharing the silence, miss fighting with you at the top of our voices, the intense break ups, loving kiss and make ups, I miss it. I miss learning to make cigarette smoke rings by you on the terrace, those heart-to-heart conversations over rum and vodka glasses, I miss it. I miss the possessive feel of your hands over my bare body, your throaty whispers in my ear, those passionate love making moments, I miss it. I miss standing on your feet and walking, miss being scooped up by you in a sudden hug, dangling feet in the air with arms woven around your neck, I miss it. I miss dressing up for you, miss making efforts to impress you by cooking and baking recipes, I miss it. I miss your protective presence while crossing a busy road, treating me with an instinctive chivalry for just being a woman, I miss it. I miss resting my head against your strong chest after a hard day's work, the feel of your kiss on my tresses, the sense of security that you brought in the ring of your arms, I miss it.

I miss you Massey, in every form of yours, I miss you.

I miss us, in every form of being us, I miss us.

---- Rags