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He kissed his gentle touches, the tender hands and soft smiles
He missed his smile that could bright up any day, that could pull him out from his darkest nights, that could comfort him in the darkest times
He missed his eyes, the ones that could transmit a thousand words without speaking not a single one, the ones that could be as soft as a tulip and as sharp as a thousand blades, the ones that he used to wake up to every day
He missed his face. Everyday he tried to remember all the small details of it, fearing that one day it will become a faint mess in his mind.
Maybe if he had agreed to take that one picture his lover asked him for, he wouldn't have had to worry about he becoming another faceless person in his memories.
He missed Paul.