I miss myself more than I’ve ever missed anyone

I took for granted the days where every ounce of my being belonged to me only, each detail copyrighted as my own, cradling each parcel of myself in cupped hands like colored mosaic tiles waiting to be assembled. It was innocence, those days– the only lover I needed was that of my own company, neverContinue reading “I miss myself more than I’ve ever missed anyone”