You’re allowed to miss them.
They didn’t leave you in the way the ones before them did. They didn’t leave you cold and hang outside to dry, like an old beach towel they didn’t care to keep. No, they folded you up delicately like their favorite T-shirt in the summer, placed you in the top drawer of their dresser and told you they will always be fond of you. They loved you with passion, and if that’s not worth remembering – I don’t know what is.
You’re allowed to remember what their kiss tasted like after a night intertwined beneath the sheets. You’re allowed to remember how their skin felt sliding against yours, their hands, their chest – them. There’s not a book that says you can’t remind yourself of how good it feels to be touched by hands that don’t burn. There’s not an unwritten rule that says missing them requires condemnation.
Missing them might be a life sentence, but at least it’s one that makes you feel good.
You might never feel their breath against your neck or hear sweet nothings whispered in your ear in the sound of their voice, but you’ve experienced their embrace for so long that your soul is full of them. You may never get to feel their fingers nestled in between yours, see their face radiate with the light of a thousand suns, or hear the melody of their heartbeat, beating like a drum; but you’ll still have their memory. And oh, what a memory you have. What a memory you’ll have forever. They’re the only soul that longed for yours, in sync with the way yours longed for theirs.
So the next time you start missing the who set your soul on fire, made your heart beat fast, caused your hands to tremble; keep on missing them.
After all, they are the only one who has touched your body with tenderness and care. They’re the only one who has treated you like home.