Hands

I miss your touch.

A hand placed precariously above my butt when we’re waiting somewhere

Not caring if anyone’s looking as you give me a little squeeze

A casual arm draped acrosss my back, hand on my hip

The way you’d pull me in closer by my waist

My head on your shoulder sitting at restaurants

You once said you never liked it when I sat across from you at a table

Because my beauty was too far away to touch

Cupping my chin when you needed my kisses

Then moving lower to clutch my neck

Long car rides gripping my thigh

Getting closer inbetween

A thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of my neck

And then pulling a handful of my hair

A slap on the ass when I’d make you laugh

Followed by a kiss

There was never a time where I wasn’t smiling if you were touching me. Except for that last hug.