I miss this

The dull click of keys being pressed.
The smell of ink on paper.

I miss the way You used to read.
The way the words would dance from Your lips.

We wrote together.
The most intimate of acts.

Exposing your inner thoughts
For another's judgement.

"It's good" You'd say
"Could be better though"

The love was what would drive me.
Your careful words would fly off the page.

I wanted to be like You.
Way back when, You see.

Here's the problem with that thought.
We're just too different, You and me.