Music Box.

Like still holding a music box in your hands, but never hearing it quite play the same way and missing how it used to sound.

So, you're talking to him. Yet, you still miss him, you just have no idea why.
You want that comfort back. That sanity. That safeness he gave you. You want him to tell you that he wants you, like he used to. He just told you. It was like he could read your mind and knew that you wanted and needed to be told those things. He was perfect. Is perfect. And will forever be perfect.

I kid you not, I lost him.

"You're talking to me, but what you're missing is the way I used to talk to you of wanting to intimately be with you."

I screwed up. Big time.