i like the butterflies you have introduced to my stomach, and i enjoy the warmth of your hand through my jeans. i like it when you hold me when i can’t stand, but not as much as the smile you give me as our eyes meet. i hate the idea of not having you. i hate the idea of your hand warming someone else’s, and the absence of your arms holding me. i don’t want to lose the laughs. i don’t want to miss you