It's funny how I've never really had you, and yet I can miss you. Holy shit, can I ever miss you. You've never even been in my room but I can waltz around it like I'm trying to impress you, and I pull out all the stops doing my hair and getting dressed as if you were sitting there watching. You've never been in my room but it feels empty without you.
And like this, in the dark. I hurt my leg today and my skin throbs against the sheets and I've never noticed how much room there is in my bed. Without clothes on the space is enormous and I can almost feel your hands already, can almost feel the silky fibres of your long hair between my fingers, the ends carressing my chest as you drape yourself above me.
It's like you're really here so I roll over to make room for you. Your skin... the theoretical softness of it, divine to the touch, the supposed heat and energy and frustration... it's like you're right here. I can see you blinking out at me from under your hair, with your bright, smart eyes. So fucking scared. So fucking scared you would get up and run if there wasn't some part of you that wanted to grow up. The part of you that hasn't broken out yet because you haven't even kissed me.
You've never even been in my bed but it feels empty without you.