It is the brief five seconds when he lets go of your hand; the empty air on the nape of your neck when his lips are no longer caressing you. It is the feel of your stomach dropping to your knees when he walks away. It is the quick intake of your breath. It is confusing lonely for alone. Vulnerability.
It is the prickle on your tongue when you lick your lips and taste his sweat. It is pulling him closer and wishing you could melt into his chest when he is already beside you. It is inhaling his scent, his habits, his morning routines. It is itching for his skin when you are not touching. It is craving for his eyes when you are not looking. Lust.
It is the hurricane in your head when you have to unlearn him. It is the screaming of your own voice when you have to learn yourself. It is when you learn to be whole without needing him to be inside you. It is seeing the sunset and finally being able to breathe. It is your laughter bouncing off the walls; it is bass-drops boiling in your blood; it is loving him despite the odds; it is loving yourself in-spite of yourself. It is fireworks when you are together. It is fireworks when you are not. When you are fire and he is gasoline and there is no stopping the aftermath - Chaos.