She took the flower that she loved,
Planted him in the burning sun,
A desert formed around and the morning dew,
Were tears the flower cried,
It nearly died.

She took the flower that she loved,
Brought him near, into her house,
Her house was cold and dry, with no light to see,
The flower could not leave,
It nearly died.

She took the flower that she loved,
Found the place where he belonged,
Without walls, in shade of sunshine, where flowers bloom,
In peace they bear no pain,
And rarely die.

Do you want me to feel small?  Shall I make myself small for you, now?
Tiny, tiny, tinier than the tiniest of things?
(they've found some very tiny things)
Am I too LARGE for you?
Do I embarrass you?
Do you think that I embarrass myself, with my H U G E N E S S?
My big voice, my *******, my BIG brazen ways?
I am not embarrassed.
I am not tiny.
I am not sorry.
It's deliberate.
You are the small one.
So small
So very small
That you
Might
just
Disape-

I cannot sleep until you're home. The second that you slip under the sheets beside me I will allow sleep to take me, almost brutally. Having you beside me is enough, there need be no communication.

No-one is closer to me than you and yet, I lead a secret inner life that I just can't explain to you. I have no idea how you would respond if I were to communicate these truths. Some of these thoughts make little sense, even to me. It is enough just to have you by my side. No-one can, or should, know everything about another. You know, without knowing.

But you will be home soon. I lie here, so far from sleep, yet exhausted, and trace the contours of your face in my mind, over and over again. Your face is like granite, you are bearlike, fierce; safety, protection and sleep. You will be home, and I will lose myself in dreams that I cannot fall into while you are absent. In those dreams, there are things I cannot face alone in this bed.

You will be home, to free me from exhaustion, you will come home.

Hurry home.