SATURDAY NIGHT

I miss him on lonely Friday nights and lazy Saturdays

I feel like I am forgetting what he looks like and the sound of his voice

I feel the memories slowly begin to fade I reach out and grab them trying to persuade

I miss him at nights when I close my eyes

His touch, his smell and his skin on mine

The late night talks and the laughs we shared

I miss the way he held me on a new day

The plans we made while laying there

I don’t want to miss the memories

I don’t want to miss his touch

I don’t want to miss anything because it is becoming too much

“If I don’t write to empty my mind, I go mad.” Lord Byron

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