Every single day
Every hour
It feels like a chunk of me is missing.
You’re gone
in every essence except that of death
My life is filled, I am consumed with you
The clock is sitting here ticking away
I long to hear your voice
I am blessed to have contact but the letters aren’t enough
You are my home
my inspiration when I am about to throw out the pages
I long for not even words
but the feel of your fingertips as you touch my face
the way your laugh would echo off the walls
all of the little things
Please just come home to me.