Come Home

I’m scared. I’m alone. You’re leaving. I know all these things, and they all are true. They all are painful. But, as always, it could be worse. Life could be worse. I don’t wish it to be worse; I don’t wish to complain about life. But this hurts. The “what-ifs” screaming in my head keep me awake, leaving me sleepless and hopeless. I can feel my own strength diminishing, and it scares me. You’re leaving. I know. You love me. I know that too. But there is so much you have not seen. Heard. Known. Loved. There is much you will see, and I accept that. I’ve realized that. What pains me is the possibility that when you return to me, I will be a ghost to you. Meaningless compared to the many sighs you have seen. It scares me. These thoughts, they’re always there, hiding in the dark corners of my mind It’s painful, like a knife to my broken heart. Your words try to assure me, but I’m still unconvinced. And until you return, this is how I shall stay. Broken. Scared. Waiting. For I will still be here, and shall freely give myself to you if only you’ll still have me. I pray you will. I want to spend forever with you. You smile, hug me, kiss me, and say you want the same. You cradle my belly, kiss its surface, and tell me that, one day, you want your own flesh and blood to grow beneath. That’s how bad you want me, and I always see this is you. But is it enough? I will be broken and lonely without you, but I’m willing to wait for you, because I only want you. No other man has loved me like you do, and I want to spend eternity with you. Call me young, call me stupid, but only I know what lies within the depths of my heart, and I will act on them if I choose to do so. I will tell the world that I love you. Please, my love, come home to me. This is all I pray for, my only wish. Don’t leave me.