missing you

I will miss the soft cotton massages vacay has to offer— sultry, succulent, as the pure wavelength of tangerine freedom. A breathy season beseeching a shower of release It's only been a fortnight, yet centuries of Earth-to-space echo a tale of want. I miss the daily parlance, pivoting not on whether the weather swore off our worn-out routines, cycling from how was your day to how lovely lavender looks on you. I shall miss the routine we mistook for indispensable, inseparable, a paste, a withholding pull of tides of fate, a fortress holding onto seams of thread plastic and metallic all at once. I shall miss you more than arid sand misses the oceans depth for a millenia I shall not wail and stage a tragic poor me dramatic in your absence. I shall not pay heed to doubts. I shall not await your presence like a restless maiden with no compass and paces leagues just to call the fog as home I shall triumph for both of us tomorrow’s imminent reunion.