I just miss you, is all. And if I could maybe say that to your face and not feel like a complete idiot for loving you in the same enamoured light as I have always, then maybe today could have been better.
But that's just life, isn't it? Filled with beautiful thoughts we rarely get to express. And I don't mind, really, it's not as if I've never kept things from you.
Like that one time you gathered a mini medicine kit for my travels and wrote a Legend so I won't get the labels confused - I wanted so bad to kiss your Face and tell you I loved you and your stupid little ways of showing you love me, too.
Or that time you took me by the hand and cupped my head near the side of your chest when we sank in cold sand under luminous moon skies, drunk on single malts and ears ringing from too much dancing.
Or when I had wanted to tell you how much I hated you for leaving me so quickly as you would a room engulfed in deathly fires, but couldn't, because well... I didn't.
I miss you. It's not the same. The beach is only sand and seas, when there's no you, to make all else magic around me.