I hate that this time last week things were okay. We went to bed together, he kissed me, he held me, we lay in bed the wrong way around. Everything reminds me of him. All I want is to lay next to him, to be able to smell him, wake up to him stroking my hair. My hearts stops and I feel the tears coming. I close my eyes and see him there, laughing at me, telling me I'm gorgeous. Letting me tuck my feet under him because they're cold. The way he pulls me over from my side of the bed every morning, pulls me into him and kisses my neck. All the texts from him, pretty girl, I miss you. Him icing my foot for me because I played the punk at a gig and got wasted. Making me cups of tea and toast... God, everything. Every little thing he does. I miss him more than anything.
This is wrong.
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