I miss you, she writes him
Because the space has been too much,
But these words can't encompass
The depth of what she really means.
So when he comes to her, she kisses him,
Each kiss a taste to accompany her explanation.
“When I say ‘I miss you,’ I mean
I miss your voice, your laugh
Your eyes, heart, and love,
Your touch.” She whispers now,
Kissing his fingertips, then guiding them over her breast
With a smile.
“Your touch is irresistible,
Like your kisses...”
The words are lost when his mouth meets hers,
His hands parting the sides of her robe
Letting it slip away to the kitchen floor.
She wears barely anything for him,
Lacy things to be admired and discarded,
Which is how it happens, and what she likes.
His eyes rake over her as he says,
“I missed you too. And I love this,”
Before they begin their dance once more.