Never Lost with Us

Lover,

I’m sorry I turn into another

person when it’s raining

soot and moonlight outside—

a severed truce between uncertainty

and the night’s restless mind.

Wanderers,

I wonder if we’ll ever

find belonging.

It’s not a place but a feeling.

When we die,

it might be something simple like

the cushion of your arm beneath

my cheek,

or a glisten of sunrise

on the side

of your face,

or when you hug my waist,

lips stealing

kisses between my shoulder blades,

fingertips cascading,

my heart beating your name.

It’s carved into my soul—

how you can hold

all my lonely, broken

pieces and make them whole.

Listen

to the silent dance

of lifetimes aching

for a chance

to not be alone.

Whenever,

wherever we are

is home.