I miss how your dick tastes.
And I don’t care if you don’t miss me.
I couldn’t be there anymore and not have you anyway.
I miss your cum in my throat.
Standing right in front of you, breathing your air used to be my favorite thing to do.
I wish that you hadn’t gotten scared.
I miss your lips.
Staring at you was always fun for me.
I wish I didn’t give in so easily to your sadness.
I miss trying to ice your hard dick so it would fit into a tiny metal cage.
Feeling your heart race or watching you on your knees.
You crossed my mind again, that’s all.
I miss your neck.
Sucks I can’t have you whenever I want.
And if I’m thinking of you then he’s not good enough.
I miss your moan.
But I guess I never really had you in the first place.
I miss your slow and terrified walks from the foyer into my apartment.
He’s a waste of time if I can’t forget you.
There won’t be another you, will there?
I even miss your hair flips and putting it back into a bun and the coat you wouldn’t let me take across the country with me.
You’re a perfect storm of beauty and misery to me.
I even miss your one word text message responses hours and hours later.
I’m happier overall here though.
And I don’t care if you don’t miss me, you’re silly like that.