They say home is where the heart is
I guess I haven’t found my home

By five years old you know
exactly where your heart is:
“I pledge allegiance to the -”
flow of blood in my body
pumped right beneath my fingers
who cannot wait to grab that cupcake

By seventeen, I need a review packet
I need a fifty page, stapled manual
just to start looking for my heart
because it is no longer inside of my chest
or the shape of my awesome Valentine’s Day card
or even the necklace Daddy bought Mommy while Daddy was still here
but it is in a hand

It is in his hand

They say a picture is worth a thousand words
I wish I had a picture

Maybe I could paint him
Watercolors on canvas, gradients of light
the waves of his hair crashing onto his forehead
carefully sculpting the sand dune of his nose
breath with every stroke
consideration with every freckle
warmth with every wrinkle around his eyes
gleaming orbs that know exactly what to say
even without the smooth pink of his lips

And those lips
windows to everything
I didn’t even know I wanted to hear
Melodies - no, symphonies
triumphant and beaming
the colors bursting with passion and understanding
filling the page until the ink runs dry

But they never gave me a paintbrush
Just a faint glimpse of five fingers

They say good things come to those who wait
They must have a whole lot of patience

I thought I was waiting
I thought a lifetime might be considered “waiting”
I thought that he might be waiting too
A delivery outside my door
waiting for me to open up
and sign my name on the dotted Good Things line
But no

He wasn’t waiting outside my door
or on my street or in the state for that matter
because he was in North Carolina
banging some blond, blue-eyed drunk
with perfect skin and a level of dignity up to my ankles
and “I’m sorry baby” and “I wish it was you”
and “What does this mean?”
and you’ve got to be kidding me

So here I am waiting
waiting for him to stop hiding behind other hims
and reach out his hand

They say love is a four-letter word
But love is four of your favorite chocolates
four charms on that Pandora bracelet
four nights when you just can’t sleep
four weeks of unconditional bliss
four years of rainbows in the White House
four decades of black and white hand in hand
four centuries of pride in a nation

Love has to be more than just four letters
Love is supposed to fill my home,
cover the walls in paintings of a million words,
stop the clock so I don’t have to wait any longer

Because my heart is tired
and his fingers are clenched
And they keep saying
And they keep saying

So I’ll keep saying too
I’ll keep searching and painting and waiting
until his hand is in mine
and even the stars know
our love is four eternities,
maybe five.