I hate that I miss you.
No-- I don't hate it;
It just seems trivial.
I missed you this summer,
then you came back.
Now you're gone again,
and I'm anxious for you
to come home.
I say "home"
as if we built it together
but in a way, it's true
None of this would be the same without you.
I'll never claim to own you;
You are free. Be so.
I only know
there's an echo of longing
for you to return.
I didn't plan to miss you,
yet here we are.
Just know that when you return,
in the moment allotted,
I'll cling to you
and cry out with my embrace
how I wish you wouldn't go
again.
My friend is out of town. I'm not in love, I just miss him. Terribly.