the healing

Home sick

Home sick; not of my house but of the home I made inside you.

So long it seems since I've seen the smile that gives the sun a run for its money,

or heard that laugh which fills me with warmth.

The weeks won't turn into days soon enough for the hours to turn into minutes.

I look at the time to find that it's the same time it was when I checked five minutes ago- or was it five seconds ago.

The day couldn't come sooner that I would be with you again, embraced in the comfort you release.

My home; I'm sick of not being enclosed in your arms.

Longing to lock the doors and never leave without you again.

-s.j.