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.