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sitting in the warm coffeeshop in collegetown, missing my baby. the rain pours outside the window and i sip my warm drink, remembering what her lips felt like against mine. it isn’t long before my drink is gone and my lips are cold again.

words spill out of me like the rain falling from the sky and i write and i write. i recall how it feels to know her loving in the mornings in the afternoon in the evening when we should be at a recording session instead. 

i wear her clothes and pretend it’s enough. it’s not- i need to feel her pressing against my chest against my breast into my side. i need to see her burying her face into her pillows as she pulls her quilt over her head, just like she does every morning. i need to begin my ritual of coaxing her out from under the covers so i can kiss her face until she wakes. 

texas summers are hot and long. 

i miss the way she looks at me across a crowded room. i pretend she is here now- she’s at the cash register ordering herself hot chocolate. she catches my eye and smiles. i smile back and the man at the register awkwardly looks away. it’s not her. she’s not here. 

cinnamon buns and silk lingerie- our mornings are our most beautiful times together. whether it’s sharing a meal or sharing a shower, we are together and we are happy. i cannot wait to wake beside her again. 

sitting in the warm coffeeshop in collegetown, missing my baby. the rain pours outside the window and i write vigorously about how it feels to hold her in my arms. i can feel her sitting across from me at the small table. she tells me i’m a writer. sometimes i believe her. 

words spill out of me like the rain falling from the sky and i cannot imagine a life without her by my side. i recall how it feels to know her loving from a distance- somehow still as present and heated as before. she has a presence in a room even when she’s not there. 

i wear her clothes and it’s enough. at night, i feel her pressing against my chest against my breast breathing into my side. i see her lying next to me, face burrowed in her pillows, my cat sneaking up between us to cuddle. she pulls the covers over the three of us and we giggle, hiding from the sun just a little longer. i kiss her face and her lips and her shoulders and her neck and call her beautiful. 

new york summers are warm and bearable. 

i remember the way she looks at me across a crowded room. i feel her here now. she’s watching me work and telling me that she’s proud of me. for being alone and with her at the same time. for pursuing my passions. for loving her bravely. 

s’mores cookies and silk lingerie- our evenings together are spent dancing to our song in the dim light of her room. they are falling asleep on her small twin bed, trying not to wake her roommate. i miss these nights. i’m ready for our future. 

sitting in the warm coffeeshop in collegetown, missing my baby. the rain pours outside the window and i’m going to be okay. 

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