“How’s your day love?” I asked you, with effortless surrender.

“Do you think of me on mornings when your toes are chilly but your heart is weary? When the sun comes up and creeps through your curtains, does it remind you of when we danced on the shores of our sandy words? Do you sometimes pause to wonder about the reasons why your coffee tastes so different? And how I used to make it that way and it just grew sprouts into you”

“How are you love?” I smile at you, with common joy.

“Do you walk down the street of where it hit you, where it all made sense, that we were to be more than we could? And when you put your finger in the hole of your jeans, the one on your inner thigh, do you close your eyes and see us tangled in foggy memories?

“I’m glad you’re well love!” I say, with a weakened shiver.

“I want to tell you about the night I finally dreamed again. I wish I hadn’t. And the beds I’ve been sleeping in. How they feel like home. I want to tell you that they earned my words, but you own my whispers. And how you used to creep into their eyes. And that now, you’re merely wishful thinking.”

“See you soon love.”