A Second Heart

Because he wasn’t saying it like someone who wanted sex. He was saying it like someone who had been sick without me. Like someone who had been crawling through hell and finally saw a glimpse of heaven and realized it still looked like me.

And I swear, my brain just started screaming.

He missed me. He missed ME. Me. Not just my body. Not just the sex. He missed the way I make stupid jokes at 2am.