when will you come home

Why have you not yet come home to me?
I assume you share these daydream “memories” that feel so real but must be fantasies, that must be reflections of our time spent in dreams, that must be reflections of our time spent in alternative realities, where we are not far apart but running our fingers through each other’s hair, and wondering where our other hand should go, knowing full well the other wouldn’t mind, but perhaps waiting to be invited again, each new caress from you is heaven’s gate opening, a warmth in my heart that comes from you sharing, an expansion of love that comes from your caring, enough to command me to make us one body, and it feeling so natural I wonder what could ever call me to take my own shape again, and what keeps you from finding me, here I am, waiting unable to do anything fulfilling with my other hand.


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I had to go and make this one awkward.