Every once in a while, I feel that tug at my chest, and remember what it used to mean.

Sometimes I miss the times we spent drifting lazily along the hazy line of consciousness, and how our eyes, barely opened, still found each other. I remember the way we gravitated closer while we slept, and the way our lips made hungry noises when they didn't feel the others right away. I remember how I could barely feel more than the heat, that forbidden warmth that radiated across our very skins and I remember how we didn't flinch away from it. We pressed into the burning flesh of the other, and we entangled our limbs as if we were afraid we might float away; and float away we did.

I remember how we murmured syllables that made no sense, and how our mouths touched like feathers floating and colliding in silence. But we weren't silent. I remember how we woke and drifted, woke and floated, woke and flew. I remember how, in the morning, she dragged us from our slumbers and her daughter told us of their mid-night misinterpretations.

Sometimes I miss those nights.

I miss how we fit together, and how we used to laugh. I miss how we teased and how we kissed and how we glanced in those directions with that sparkle in our eyes. Sometimes, I miss us, how we used to be. I miss how we were, back when we were friends. The way we used to talk about everything and nothing all at once- it haunts me like a ghost singing me lullabies. The voices traveling back and forth at odd paces, intercepted by more smiles than tears- they whisper at my earlobes and caress my stained cheeks. Sometimes, I miss those days.

Sometimes, I miss you.