I miss his eyes
His eyes that I used to stare, his eyelashes that I used to tease.
I miss his nose
His nose that I used to hold, and make him talk as if he had nasal problems.
I miss his cheeks
His cheeks that I used to pinch, and giggle and smile and laugh.
I miss his lips
His lips that I used to kiss.
I miss his arms
His arms that used to hold me as I fell asleep, as he held me tight when I wanted to go.
I miss his fingers
His fingers that I used to interlock.
I miss him all.
On the seventh of July.
I won't forget that.