It had been so long since I had seen him, but his image was still firmly ingrained in my mind. I could sense his presence like a fly on the wall, watching my every move. I could somehow still conjure up the familiar feeling of being loved by Shane. When I closed my eyes, and concentrated, I could make myself feel the familiar nervous beat of butterflies stirring around in the pit of my stomach.
I could still see the stars in his eyes, ever present when I was around him. Sparkling with a thirst for the music for which he lived. I had always found it funny that he had to style his hair to get the bed head look. I regretted laughing at his blow dryer, and numerous hair products. It all didn't matter now.
I could still taste the sweet, soft touch of his lips. And sometimes, when I closed my eyes, I could even smell the masculine scent of his body. I longed to have back the outer and inner warmth that he brought to my life.
It was getting late, and as I stared at a blank television screen, I wondered if he still thought about me. I wondered if we would ever get back together, because honestly . . . I think I'm in love.
Still in love.
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The world had always seemed to stop when we were together, like we had no concept of time. I could still see the leaves . . . Mitchie throwing them in the air and laughing, as crisp brown and red leaves stuck to her hair. It was like a color photograph stuck in my mind, I could still remember every aspect of her.
The brightness of Mitchie's face put the sun to shame. The moon did not compare to the glow in her eyes, nor the clearest sky compare to her pure white skin. I longed to touch her hair again, as I used to run my hands through it, pushing it back so I could see her face. I would do absolutely anything to see that million dollar smile again, the smile that lit up a room, and my heart.
I felt empty inside, regretting the wrong that happened between us. It didn't matter now, since we had broken up. I was so inspired to write music about my broken heart. It was late. All I could think about was her, and if she was thinking of me too. I hugged my knees to my chest, looking out the window of the tour bus and let out a deep sigh.
Mitchie . . . I miss you.