One Day I’ll Wake Up To The Sound Of Your Voice

H Influencer Collective / Alivia Latimer
H Influencer Collective / Alivia Latimer

One day it won’t have to be like this, two people separated by distance and dreams.

One day I won’t have to pick up a phone, just to hear you smile through the receiver.

One day I won’t have to wonder. Wonder where you are or if you’re happy. Wonder what little things are filling your days. Wonder if, in the middle of your shift, you find yourself thinking about me, wishing it was as easy as turning around and pulling me into your arms.

One day it won’t be this complicated. We won’t have to skirt around what we really want, acting disinterested, settling for less and pretending that this is the choice we made, the choice we agreed upon. And that we’re happy, miles and miles apart.

One day I won’t have to ask you what you’re thinking, then attempt to decipher the pause, the hesitation, the slight break in your voice as you tell me there’s nothing wrong, and that nothing will ever come between us. Though I know something already has.

One day I won’t have to picture your face or try to read it through the lens of a filtered camera, imagining what that expression is truly hiding, believing that you’ve let me go just because it’s easier that way.

One day I won’t be so far from you that I begin to forget the shape of your face, the little birthmark on your right cheekbone, the way your eyes squint when you smile.

One day I won’t have to ask myself if I’ll ever see you again. Because one day you’ll be right in front of me.

And one day when I open my eyes, I’ll see your arm wrapped around my middle, your hair wild and unruly against the pillow.

One day I’ll roll over in the middle of the night and feel you shift next to me, pull me closer.

One day I’ll laugh at something silly and lean across the center console of the car to show you, or kiss you good morning, or playfully shove you away from my side of the bathroom sink, or throw pillows at you, or steal all your caramel corn.

One day I’ll take you to the top of the mountain I climbed, or down my favorite running path, or cook you the new pasta with fresh basil from the farmer’s market and watch your face as you take the first bite.

One day I won’t have to ask you what’s on your mind because I’ll see the creases in your forehead and know that you’re worried. So I’ll slip behind you and rub your shoulders, kiss your neck until you smile.

One day I won’t feel so far away from you, in physically and mentally.

One day I’ll feel your touch, your kiss, your arms around my middle.

One day I’ll wake up to the sound of your voice, sweet like a melody in my head all day long.

One day you’ll be with me, right here, right now.
And I won’t have to wish for ‘one day’ anymore. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Marisa is a writer, poet, & editor. She is the author of Somewhere On A Highway, a poetry collection on self-discovery, growth, love, loss and the challenges of becoming.

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