The Frog Chronicles

All of It

I want her number back in my phone
I want her voice back in my morning
I want her scent back in my bed
I want to find her crimson hair on my pillow, and the smudge of her lipstick on the collar of my best dress shirt.

I want that twinge of worry when she doesn’t answer and that flash of anger when she calls too late at night.
I want that whiff of lingering perfume when she leaves in the morning

I want to be confused on what cycle to use when I find something soft and delicate and feminine in the dirty laundry.

I want to crawl out of bed early because I need to put gas in her car in the middle of February.

I want to take a lukewarm shower because she used up all the hot water. I want to pace the room while she dries her hair at the mirror, and I want to flip through infomercials for twenty minutes while she finishes getting dressed.

I want all of it. All of that stuff that makes me crazy.

All of the waiting. All of the fussing. All of the everything.

All of the kisses.
All of the snores.
Even all of the arguments.

All of her sex, all of her curves, and all of her smarts.

All of the ways she makes me feel like I’m hitting out of my league.

All of it. I miss all of it. I want it back. 

All of it.