Our Words Are Our Years

I can wait forever inside these empty bedrooms, these empty states stretched across a landscape too thin for its bones. It aches beneath our feet as we walk across, tracing our trails across rivers like veins. We always stay near the water to keep our hearts warm. we are born from the ocean and we should never leave but we must in order to find each other again. I need you like I need the ocean, the salt in my wounds, the water in my lungs. I need your wrists against mine and every other part of you. We have wrapped maps around our waists and we have breathed in the dust of every great city that has wrapped their skyscraper shadows across our eyes. We have splayed our fingertips across valleys and plains and mountains larger than anything we have ever seen. I have seen you stretched across the Grand Canyon, your backbone forming the Colorado. I have seen you beneath white sheets and blue skies and you never change. I have opened my eyes to you thousands of times and through all of these openings and closings I have yet to find a flaw in you, your subtly sweet like honey imperfections that wrap around my skin like home. I have seen you in different light than anyone else, and I have seen you leave a hundred different places a hundred different times. I have seen you come and go, and I have waited inside of these sheets for you time after time. beneath these sheets I am yours and you are mine and I will never be prepared for the day that may change. Beneath these maps and rivers and valleys I am yours and always will be.
So come back home and fill these empty rooms with who we used to be.
Come back home and bring us back to life.