talking to you
feels like coming home.
there is a familiarity in you
that i miss.
and i’d like to walk along dead-end streets
with flickering streetlights and in the midst of
children chasing after the wind, and gather up
the courage to tell you that i think of you
and if you asked what it meant
i’d like to have the courage to tell you that
i don’t know. but sometimes i’d like to take a bus
to somewhere quiet and lie on the grass and stare up at the sky and have imaginary conversations
i would like to sit with you in cafes and
have our coffee cups go cold while we spend the evening talking about everything. i want
to be drenched in our words, to swim to the
depths of our souls.
i think maybe i want you.