"Us"

I lay in bed with my eyes wide open.

I can't sleep because you seem to have made yourself a priority in my head.

Things you said, your expressions, our fights, our conversations, the way you looked at me, the way you smell, the way your hair feels - they all stroll across my mind.

I turn to my side, desperate to change what I'm thinking about.

But I have no luck. You're still on my mind. Your I-love-you texts flash across my eyes.

I miss you. I miss the comfort we shared. Maybe I screwed up by telling you that I was in love with you - and now, I regret it every minute of everyday.

I lay on my back and sigh. I think of the Saturday morning conversations, the times when we had conversations with our eyes, the secret texts, the concerned phone calls.

And then the tears start. The big lump in my throat melts and the tears fall, staining my pillow.

I don't want the apartment with yellow bathroom tiles. I don't want twin babies. I don't want arguments over dinner. I don't want to ride behind you in your bike as you drop me off to work every morning. I don't even want to wake up every morning to see your face. I don't want you to make me tea.

I want you to make pervy jokes in an attempt to disgust me. I want you to put your arm around me just so that no one else does. I want you to send me random I-love-you texts. I want you to call me on Saturday morning and discuss morning hormonal changes. I want you to tell me how you'll kick any guy who tries to get close to me.

I want you back. I want us back.