Coming Home

I sometimes (often) think about how it'll go when one of us finally breaks down…

I'll suddenly find myself inches from you, my hands on your waist. We'll stare into each other's eyes, both of us making the appropriate noises of protest… we can't. This isn't us. We need to do things right. This isn't us.

But then, with your eyes still locked onto mine, you'll take one of my hands and push it down and back, guiding it to that soft roundness you know I've been longing to feel (And why is it even in my fantasies it's always you breaching the gap? I need to be better about that…). And I'll pull you in with my other hand, and our lips will finally, finally come into contact. And you will feel just exactly how ready I've been for this moment.

And then…?

sigh

Oh, my love. I'm coming home today. God, I hope I get to see you soon. Even if the above stays a fantasy forever… I just need you, need your presence, need to be near you, even if the closest I get to touching you is hearing your voice.

I love you, sweet lady. See you soon.