The Thought of You

The Thought of You

The thought of you

keeps tapping at my door,

a slow insistence

I cannot stop.

It moves through me

like heat in shadows,

the kind that burns

yet feels like home.

I let it in,

though night grows heavy,

though every breath

reminds me why.

You stay inside

the darker places,

the ones I guard

with trembling hands.

Your touch returns

in quiet pulses,

a ghost of want

I still obey.

I fall again

into your memory,

the rich, deep pull

I never fight.

And even now,

when silence breaks me,

your longing stirs,

and I answer.