You for a second time, xxx

Nowadays my heart is full of the way you smell and the timbre of your laugh and the soft of your mouth and the rough of your hands. And it is lovely. Just like you. And the degree of missing you when you go must be a measure of affection, because it is deep. The depth is what I think about as I fall asleep, when I put on my coat, when I read, when I sit around doing nothing but thinking. You and depth. Depth and you. How lovely, and sometimes lonely. But that's only when you go. I have to remind myself there is always tomorrow--the elusively well-rested and productive tomorrow, when our time together is deserved rather than stolen. Oh, but I love being a thief with you.