Out of office

 I don't know how its possible to miss someone you see every day. How commuting or a sunday evening can become the best part of a week. How we ended up here, living this double life.
I dont know how you hide it so well, when I'll run off to dry my mascara and drunk text my best friend. I get it, and as soon as we are alone it changes, but god is it hard feeling this way. Not to hold your hand whilst we down the pub, not to get too into our inside jokes, to keep the right distance.
I miss you. I miss the forehead kisses on Sundays you. I miss the you thats ooo.