I’ve tried a million times to tell you.
There’s a deep canyon between us. We could meet each other halfway – to bridge this divide. But until one of us starts the journey, the words I don’t say, outnumber the ones I speak.
I told a friend recently that I was waiting for the man that felt like home. I neglected to mention I’d already met you. It’s the way you say my name. Each time, I grow a little more certain. You’re the most home I’ve ever felt.
I write these words on slips of paper or type them out in quick paragraphs, storing them up for a day that may never come.
I am not ready to give up just yet though. Not when I’m finally home.