I would see images whenever he kissed me. He kissed my cheek at a wedding and I saw pink clouds of cotton candy.
Lying on a blanket at the park, my head in his lap, I saw a whole forest of wildflowers. In a coffeehouse where we stared at each other forever—honeysuckle bears; blue ribbon floating in candlelight; stars twinkling in a dark blue sea over the earth. I loved it. I miss it.
He's still amazing to me,
but I miss that magical swoon that comes with fresh love.
(right now,
I can hear him snoring in the other room
through two
closed doors)
thunderclaps on pretty, rainy nights.
