Did you leave without saying goodbye? Without kissing her forehead like you always do?
Do you even remember her face, the warmth of her skin, the freckles on her back?
Do you miss her fingers between yours, filling gaps that you created when loneliness was your muse, and she danced between the sheets leaving you wanting more? More sadness, more tears, more pain?
Do you miss her voice? How soft whispers fell upon your ears and all you could do was listen and believe that you could spend the rest of your days laying there, between sheets that wrapped you both together, making you one.
Do you miss the scent of her skin and how every piece of her held you together? How your legs intertwined with hers fitting so perfectly like two pieces in the complicated puzzle of love, hate, regrets, memories and broken promises?
But most of all, do you miss her? How home was all she reminded you off, and home was always where you belonged, where you both belonged.
Do you miss her, after all this time?
Tell me, my love, do you?