When I can hold you again

I’ll no longer

need to squeeze

eyes shut

each night

to battle with time.

I won’t be searching

for memories

of you under my arm

hand strewn

across my waist

pulling me close to you.

This, my evening ritual

as if we’ll never again

be nestled,

two jigsaw pieces –

me between your legs

your hand on my heart. 

As if we’ll never again be clad

in nylon lace cami 

grey basketball shorts.

As if I’d never find 

your hand on my torso again

and get to hold it a while,

before letting go,

turning around

to fight with snores,

wishing myself away.

When I can hold you again

I won’t wish.

I won’t let go.

When I can hold you again.

When can I hold you again?

Image courtesy of Anastasia Skylar.