How strange I find myself uttering these thoughts where

Once I would have not even thought them so

As they were so far away as to not even be

A possibility

Yet now I sit here alone and wonder why, just why

Do I expect a touch?

Do I feel so empty?

Aren’t you here?

Am I wondering these wonderings?

How could the little bug of a thought have suddenly metamorphosized

Into a beautiful and intricate freewheeling butterfly?

Where had the ‘bye’ had become ‘until next time’

The ‘hello’ had become ‘good morning’

The ‘I might’ had become ‘I’ll always’

The feeling of moving on had become a sudden longing for your presence again?

I don’t know and I might not ever know, even if I wanted to

Just when I thought I’d grasped myself, the little soul is also reaching and grasping for something, a something that maybe, just perhaps, may be you

I know not what it wants, nor do I ever

Yet I only know of a few things outside of the newly found entity that is me

And they are thus

That I want to stay in the summer of us forever

That I want to wake up every day and see what’s new with you

That I want to sit and listen to your stories all day long

That I want to always be right there where you are

Yet when my heart catches the fallout and reads through the lines it screams and punishes my soul for its long-forgotten rememories where it had promised no more

And the crying and fighting and sighing all rages on for something that I thought was as insignificant as you

But instead my heart only shoots me another look

And continues its toil to heal me

Where I, the unruly child had continued to slip in this new game of mine

You had come along and taught me to waltz

Where my heart had worked to close the wounds and heal the sores

It stares, bewildered,

At what I’d found this time.