I can’t count with my fingers
The amount of times I have been homesick.
It is one of the bleakest feelings in the world.
The aching,
Bile rising,
Wrongness in my chest.
Makes me feel like I don’t belong here.
This isn't where I am supposed to be.
I've been gone for far too long,
And the desirable place is in his arms.
I now know the worst kind of homesickness,
The kind where I am consumed of inevitable morose.
Being with him is where I need to be.
Inhaling the leftover scent of him from his sweater,
Doesn't smell nearly as good as it would,
If it were inhaled directly from his neck.
Looking at all the photos I have of him, of us,
Isn't quite like seeing his smile in person, or hearing his laugh.

If he is my home,
I must go back soon.
I've been gone for far too long.