Come Home (Please)
I’d like to imagine that
you’ll come home early in the
dead of night. That you’d park outside my house and fumble around in the dark. That you’d use a pin
to pick the lock and creek through
my front door. And how you’d tiptoe across the floor board
with the pitter-patter that sounds
like rain. I wouldn’t wake.
And how you could sidle up the stairs
as not to wake us all. When you’d reach the landing, you’d
hold - your - breath
and with every step, inch closer to my door. You would slowly turn the handle
then silently go into my bedroom
and next slip into my duvet.
Your chest against my back
like perfect cutlery. My hair would
stick in your face but I would stay
Because why would I be scared?
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