The warmth of his body against mine feels the way the sun will feel on your body when you’re finally dry after swimming.

The touch of his fingers gliding on my skin feel as gentle as the tips of rose petals.

His smell? Indescribable but to me it is thick oil, from all the machines he works on mixed with “man”.

The bristle of his beard has become comfort.

His grizzly bear snores have become my own personal lullaby.

His eyes are the most comfortable shade of melted milk chocolate. I love to swim in them.

His voice is a lighthouse, guiding me home from the distant lands that I disappear to in my mind.

His presence washes over me the way a tsunami does but in the calmest way possible.

But when he is gone?

I am lost in a fog that is as thick as the first blanket of snow on a chilling Minnesota night.

I am the loneliest flower, waiting to be plucked.

I am the little hand on the face of the clock,

Tick

Tick

Ticking

Away, waiting for his arrival.

The cliche that I cannot think straight,

I cannot move correctly,

My chest feels as if a thousand pound elephant sits upon it.

Typical cliches.

I hate to be a cliche.

With him though?

I melt.

With him?

I fight.

With him?

My laughter transcendes space and time.

With him?

I am unapologetically me.

Without him?

I am just not me.