Hollow

I miss falling asleep to the light of your laptop computer. I miss scratching your scruffy beard. I miss knowing you're just a room away. I miss waking up in the middle of the night and putting my arm randomly across you. I miss falling asleep in your arms. I miss My Shoulder. I miss hearing the sound of video games as I'm reading in another room. I miss the smell of you cooking. I miss the little smirk on your face you get when you're being a smart ass. I miss putting my hand in your cargo pants' pocket. I miss lazing about on the couch with you. I miss you reading to me. I miss missing movies because I'm so warm and cozy next to you that I fall asleep instead of watching it. I miss the rhythmic breathing you have when you're concentrating on something. I even miss your snoring, because it means that you'd be here. I miss you emerging from the bathroom after a shower, donning wet hair and comfies. I miss late night runs to the convenience store for "zerts." I miss asking you what you want for dinner. I miss you getting frustrated with me because I don't know what I want for dinner, either. I miss making you breakfast. I miss my quiet mornings in the kitchen, wondering when you're going to bumble into the room. I miss you watching me at the scenes you know that make me cry when we're watching sappy movies we've seen a hundred times. I miss my Booga Hugs. I miss breathing you in. I miss the way you smugly smile when I notice you're wearing a clean shirt. I miss talking about random shit the minute it happens. I miss discussing philosophical things with you. I miss your (horrible) English accent. I miss your dorky Schwarzenegger and Connery impersonations. I miss your smile. I miss your hug.

It isn't just you that I miss, love.
I miss us.