Sensucht

I miss you. I don't like to admit it, and in some ways I fight it. But then you're there with your big grin, and I can't stop looking. Because I missed you. I keep missing you. It's not all consuming, or gut wrenching. It's just there - in the back of my head. It doesn't hurt, my heart doesn't ache. But I do find myself thinking of your smile in the middle of a conversation. The glimmer of your eyes when I close mine. And the burn of your hands on my skin when I'm alone. I can try to fight this, and what it means, but it won't matter because I miss you all the time. And when you smile, somehow, I don't mind.