When was the last time he kissed me like that? True to his word, Scott said I love you every day. Before he left for work and when he got home like clock work. Sometimes just as he held me in bed. The words washed over me and soothed me. Kept me sane. I waited to hear them every day like some junkie. We didn't fuck anymore, but the whispers of what he would always be to me were deafening.
His love was in every slow kiss. Every time he held my hand. When he dragged me out on dates just so we could be together. He'd talk for hours without expecting much back. The way he'd carry me to bed when I was too tired to go on my own. The feel of his hands on my body when he'd give me a massage. His love was so fucking devastatingly apparent that it made me burn all the more for him.
