If this were a letter, I'd describe the scent your skin has left in the space between each breath. I've developed a heart murmur that quakes with each sigh, the company of which surprisingly comforts while the hum of the heater rocks me to sleep.

If home were something less of a place I see when I close my eyes, I'd approach the door with optimism, the daydreams of our bodies dancing in the rhythm of so many melodies at once.

If I were less hopeful, the pieces of my heart would crumble, the ink spilling forth into puddles shaped like clasped hands.

Your hands write poetry across time in cloud form. Our eyes speak to each other through smoke circles the planes make as they skate the skies between...

If I could have one wish, it would be your arms, my waist, and so many whispered love poems.

If today had a name, it would be simple.

I love you.
I see you.
Close your eyes.


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