I miss it.

I miss it.
The days when you were so desperate to see me you'd hop on the next train out without even calling me to see if I was available.
The times when you'd tell me that you were looking forward to doctors prodding you, because at least it meant you got to spend the night with me.

I miss it.
The tightness of your hand when it held onto mine; knowing that you were trying to hold onto that moment as much as I was.
The feeling of your warmth next to me, and the knowledge that this time I was for you.