I'm wearing your shirt today - written a while ago

I’m wearing your shirt today. To put something on that was once right against your skin is the closest I can get to you now. I slipped it on with nothing else underneath and curled into a ball under my covers. I wear it like a dress. It's five sizes too large and almost comes down to my knees. You would smile at how ridiculous I looked. I smile as I bury my face into its folds and inhale.

To me, it's softer than satin and warmer than fur. It slides along my skin in the most sensuous ways; kissing my skin, tickling my body. There's only a slight trace of your smell lingering still, but enough to make me smile into the fabric. You're scent is soft and musky. My fingertips imitate the path your fingers would follow, along my chin and down my neck, speaking to my senses and whispering secrets. My lips would in turn whisper my own secrets against your ears. My secrets. Our secrets. My stomach tingles and I attempt to turn my thoughts away.

I miss you. It's been more than six months since I felt your lips on mine. Six long months of longing.
Of absolute torment.

Aching. That’s the word I chose to describe what I feel. I’m aching to feel my hand in yours, aching to slide my fingers across your face, the face that has been chiseled into my definition. My body is aching to be close to you. It’s reaching for you, begging for you. My lips are aching to be kissed and my waist is aching to be held. I close my eyes and tangle my fingers into my hair, imagining they were yours. Playfully tugging, stroking...

Pulling the covers over me, I wrap my arms around a pillow. I imagine your arms circling me, your warmth engulfing me and I'm not alone anymore. I can almost feel your breath against my shoulder and I can most hear your soft snoring against my back. I close my eyes again and I can smell you. I'm not alone any more. I can hear you whispering, your voice heavy with sleep, "I'm here now, love. I'm here now." I'm crying in relief, in utter relief. I'm not alone anymore. I can almost feel your fingers sliding against my waist, sliding and slipping...

And I open my eyes, still very cold.

And still so very alone.

Yours,

A

Wore to church.

Excuse the dirty mirror and room, I've been crashing in my sister's room

Tomorrow's agenda:

-thrift & shop

-walk the dog <3

-hem the dress from Old Navy

-work on new collage for room