Between the Lines

I don’t need you, I want you. I want to choose you every second, every day for the rest of my life. I want to hear your heart speaking to me, easing my fears, “you’re home you’re home you’re home,” every beat a reminder of the journey it took to get back into your arms.

I’m untethered here. I can’t scoop the contents of my heart up fast enough before they float away. The moment my head rest in the hollow of your neck, everything fell back into place; a magnet recentering and shifting all I am back into place. I don’t know how to live like this. 

Please tell me your limbs are loose and wobbly too, like the tendons holding you together need tightening. Like the string that’s running between us is slack and the only fix is to fit our hearts back together tying them tight with the loose ends.

Everything here suddenly feels pointless. I have a job to do, I have bills and debt to pay off. I have children to shuffle between friends, school, other extracurriculars… I need timelines, goals… I need structure and stability, but the foundation here is slowly crumbling with every remembrance of how your hold on me would calm my nervous system, stroking and untangling the knots in my mind.

Tell me what’s on the tip of your tongue, reveal what your heart left between the lines every time you rationalized your thoughts hinting at vague points in the future. Tell me or break my heart for good this time. Stop apologizing and make it right. Stop dropping breadcrumbs and feed me the whole truth of your heart, don’t hide from me and don’t hold back out of fear of losing me again. If you can’t say it with your words, hold me and let our hearts speak. “You’re home you’re home you’re home.”