I’m dying for his arms around me to warm me and comfort me.
I’m dying for his lips against mine, and to hear as his whispers “I love you” into my ear.
I’m dying to feel his warm body pressed against mine as we try to fit on a twin size bed. And we will fit because I am so little.
I’m dying to feel our limbs all intertwined.
I’m dying to run my hand through your soft hair, actually on your soft hair because you have to shave for the army.
I’m dying to laugh till I cry because you wont stop tickling me.
I’m dying to be near you; and it hasn’t even been a week.
And I won’t need to nor I should tell you I’m dying to see you because even though we are an item, we still have lives to live on and things to worry about.
But soon in April, I will be with you again, and this is going to be huge.